


if my heart was a compass, you'd be north

by cheekiestcheeky, heartsoftlouis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Boys In Love, Kid Fic, M/M, Punk Louis, all the tomlinson co appears in a scene too, aquarium visit because i love aquariums, but i'm not individually tagging each of them because effort, cat with ridiculous name, ok maybe not subtle more like it's only mentioned four times, so subtle it makes my heart ache, there is also very very subtle ziall, this is sappy af, too many mentions of finding nemo, warning: we gave louis an additional sentimental tattoo that killed our souls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 06:08:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 55,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6183697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheekiestcheeky/pseuds/cheekiestcheeky, https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsoftlouis/pseuds/heartsoftlouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Louis really cares about is his skateboard, tattoos, football, and his family. He has a job that he (mostly) loves and a (small) handful of good friends, and at 24 he is pretty content with his life... until he nearly crashes into a boy with wild curls and cratered dimples, he begins to think maybe he's been missing something he never knew was missing. That missing piece is apparently big enough for two. </p><p>[Or the one where punk Louis likes to think he’s not clumsy, but he suspects he’ll have to accept it when he falls face first into a relationship with a head full of curls and his tiny human.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. May

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [If my heart was a compass, you'd be north](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12683916) by [stylezluuving](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylezluuving/pseuds/stylezluuving)



> Sooooo this fic is our baby and we are delighted to be a part of 1D Big Bang Round Four. We've been teasing this idea for almost two years now (!), and we are so excited to be sharing this story with you. We hope you love it as much as we do. 
> 
> Many thanks to our big bang collab artist Ariel (dinglehoppersaplenty) for making an awesome fanmix for our fic! It can be found on [8tracks](https://8tracks.com/dinglehoppersaplenty/mine-is-yours) and [tumblr](http://dinglehoppersaplenty.tumblr.com/post/140703751944/mine-is-yours-yours-is-mine-for-round-four-of).
> 
> This is my first fic ever and I'm absolutely excited for you guys to read it! Many thanks to my co for doing the majority of the writing and basically being the best friend and bro a girl could ask for I love you to pieces thank you for procrastinating this fic with me! -Sarah (heartsoftlouis)
> 
> Many thanks to Sarah for being an amazing bro and co and entertaining this idea with me for so, so long. I'm so excited we're finally posting, after way too much procrastinating. - Amy (cheekiestcheeky)

_Thanks to[@mytinylou](http://mytinylou.tumblr.com) for the lovely photoset! [[x](http://mytinylou.tumblr.com/post/140890224011/if-my-heart-was-a-compass-youd-be-north-harry)]_

Louis is not accident-prone.

If he were, things like this would happen on a regular basis. He would probably also have a hell of a lot of bruises and scraped knees and probably some concussions, too.

As it is, this is a one-time thing because it’s a Friday afternoon at the skatepark and Louis is caught up in his cloudy thoughts—distracted, still steaming over a client, and not really paying attention to the world around him. The skatepark is abnormally crowded, too. There are hordes of teenagers hanging around and people just wandering between the obstacles with no boards in sight.

So there are many factors that lead to this accident, really. It’s not just Louis. It’s Louis and his thoughts and the other skaters and the crowds and maybe also the way too upbeat pop music someone has blasting through the outdoor speakers.

Whatever the reason, it’s not just Louis’ fault when he’s crossing from the rails to the half-pipe and almost skates right into a boy.

Louis has just a moment long enough to shout a yelp of warning and swerve to the side, barely missing the boy as he stumbles off of his board and onto his feet. There’s already an apology tumbling down his tongue as he kicks up his board and turns around, but—

“Oops,” the boy says first. He’s tall—and probably not much of a boy at all, but he has a mop of shaggy brown curls that leave his face looking young. He’s smiling sheepishly, a phone clutched in both of his hands.

The apology dissolves on the tip of Louis’ tongue, and somehow the first thing out of his mouth is, “Hi.”

The boy almost looks surprised, his eyes sweeping over Louis in one quick motion, and his smile smoothes into something simple. “Hi,” he reciprocates easily enough, but then he’s motioning at his phone and pointing vaguely somewhere over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I was, erm—I was trying to check up on something at home and looking for my friend at the same time and I—I wasn’t paying attention, I suppose? Sorry. I really should’ve been—”

He’s rambling. The tall boy is rambling, and his voice is low and his words are sort of slow and there’s an actual blush spreading high along his cheeks. Louis tries not to stare, but he knows he must be failing when the boy’s cheeks only grow a shade darker.

Louis meets the boy’s eyes, a cool jade and owlishly large, and shakes his head. “Nah, you’re alright,” he tells the boy, unable to stop a slight smile. “I was a bit distracted, too.”

“Oh.” The boy frowns slightly, sends his phone another glare. “Still.”

Louis shrugs a shoulder, his tongue absently fooling with his lip ring. “Don’t worry about it,” he insists and lets his eyes skirt over the boy from head to toe. He’s lean but broad, dressed in skinny black jeans and a white t-shirt and ratty brown boots. There’s a necklace around his neck, rings on his fingers, and a dimpled smile on his lips that steals the spotlight from the rest of his face. Those curls, though. Those are distracting, and Louis forces his eyes away after only a few seconds, wonders instead, “I didn’t catch you with my board, though, right? You’re fine, yeah?”

“Me?” The boy laughs gently. His eyes sweep across Louis again in all of a second, and he nods, his smile somehow brighter. “Yeah, I’m—I’m fine,” he responds. A beat passes and then, “I’m Harry, actually.”

Louis snorts because _honestly?_ His reaction doesn’t seem to affect this curly-haired boy named Harry, though. There’s not a twitch in his smile or a wrinkle in his brow; he just smiles like it’s the most natural transition into a greeting. Ridiculous as it feels, Louis extends a hand and offers his name in return, “Louis.”

Shifting his phone, Harry somehow ends up extending his left hand instead of right. He corrects it almost immediately over a nervous laugh, but the slip-up has Louis’ cheeks stretching wide with a grinning laugh.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Harry apologizes as he shakes Louis’ hand properly, “I swear I’m not usually so…” He doesn’t finish, just widens his eyes comically. It’s—it’s _cute_ , is what it is.

“Yeah,” Louis laughs, too, and maybe ducks his head because his cheeks suddenly feel a little warm. “And I’m not usually running down curly-haired guys with my board, but here we are.”

“You mean that’s not a daily thing?”

“Not quite.”

“So it’s something you’ve reserved just for me,” Harry settles—doesn’t ask—and it comes off so easily, dimple deep in his cheek.

“Well, I wouldn’t be so quick to say that,” Louis teases and tilts his head to the side, giving Harry a quick once over. “You’re not the only charming tree with curls around here.”

“Charming _tree_?” The boy’s jaw falls open just the slightest with shock, but then he’s grinning through a laugh all over again. “Charming—charming I’ll take though, thanks.”

“Oi, don’t get smug about it,” Louis warns and tries to keep a straight face. It’s harder than it should be, he thinks, at least with this dimple-cheeked, curly-haired, cherubic-faced boy standing across from him.

“I’m not, I’m not,” Harry replies, laughter rumbling through his words and _damn_ that smile is something bright and blinding, and if Louis didn’t have any control he might actually just step right up and kiss it off the boy’s face. He doesn’t, of course. This isn’t a bad teen soap opera pumped full of wild hormones. Rather, the world falls back into place around them. Several seconds pass quietly, overpowered by far-off chatter and a backtrack of mainstream pop music. Harry’s eyes flicker back around the skatepark, and his smile fades—just a little. The mood deflates, his dimple along with it. “Right,” he starts, running a hand through his curls, “well, I should, erm… Get back to finding my friend.”

“Oh. Oh, right,” Louis agrees, nodding and definitely ignoring the stupid, tiny,  _minuscule, honestly_ hint of sadness that hits at his insides.

“Yeah, so. I’ll see you around, maybe.” Harry pauses for the briefest of moments before turning away with a smile. It feels final, and Louis sort of hates that he cares.

But then—then this wave of _whatthefuck_ washes over Louis and instead of getting back on his board and continuing toward the half-pipe, he’s taking two quick steps toward Harry and stopping him with a hand to his elbow.

“Who’s your friend?” Louis asks before Harry has even turned back toward him, and he almost cringes at how odd that question must seem. Shaking his head, he rephrases, “I mean I’m here a lot, like really it’s probably brushing on pathetic how often I’m here. But I know quite a few of the other skaters here because of it, so I could help you find him? Maybe?” And Jesus, it sounds so _eager_ , but.

But, Harry laughs and spares another look across the skatepark that, in his defense, is abnormally crowded. He frowns and admits, “Another set of eyes might be useful, actually.”

Louis certainly doesn’t feel _fucking giddy_ about gaining a few more minutes with this curly-haired kid—he doesn’t. But he might smile, and it might be a little too large for a question like, “Okay, so who am I looking for?”

But that’s as far as he gets before there’s a clap on his shoulder and a bellow in a thick Irish lilt, “Tommo!”

_Niall_. The resident Irishman of the skatepark who’s known to fall on his arse more often than actually skate, but for some reason he’s at the park just as regularly as Louis. He’s always got a smile and a laugh to spare, which Louis thinks is probably why they kicked it off in the first place. They only ever see each other at the park though, and any other day Louis would probably be thrilled to see the blond boy.

But he was _just_ getting somewhere, honestly.

Amazing.

Louis’ smile flattens, but he wraps an arm around Niall’s shoulders all the same, welcoming him in with a warm greeting. “Nialler, glad you’re here, mate, I was just about to help—”

“Harry,” Niall finishes, not without an undertone of bewilderment.

Louis’ brow wrinkles as he looks from Niall to the curly-haired boy across from them, just to find Harry staring at them with an amused, dimpled smile. “Sorry?” Louis asks, because he feels like he’s been left out of a joke.

Niall laughs, loud and unabashed, and gives Louis’ shoulder a shove. “Harry’s my best mate, Tommo. Dragged ‘im along with me today. Had to get him out of the house to celebrate his end of term,” he explains with a shrug. “Was planning on introducing the two of you anyway, but it looks like you’ve already met?”

“In a way,” Harry says, the dimple so deep it looks like a crater.

The blond lifts a brow. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“I might have almost ran over your lost puppy,” Louis answers, to which Harry actually giggles. _Giggles._ It feels oddly like an accomplishment and leaves Louis' chest warm; he kind of wants to make it happen again.

But Niall’s cackle drags him away from any chance of giggle recreations, and Harry adds on, “Seems I distracted him with my charm.”

“Weird way to greet people, Tommo,” Niall chides, but he leans in close and stage whispers, “but I’ve got to admit that charm can be hella distracting.”

Harry’s cheeks roar with a blush once more, but he just shakes his head at Niall before glancing at the phone he still has clutched in his left hand. His brow furrows as he looks at the screen, and his smile is nearly vanished when he looks back up to Niall a moment later. “Should we be heading out soon?” he asks, his voice a little quieter. He almost sounds concerned, like 5 p.m. is getting too late.

Niall rolls his eyes but nods anyway. “Right, forgot you eat so damn early,” he mutters and slips off his helmet with a sigh. He tucks it under the same arm as his board and looks to Louis with another smile. “Looks like I’ve got to get this grandpa off to supper. We’ll be seeing you, yeah?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Louis says with a nod, shifting his focus away from the fleeting, panicky race of his heart.

“Unless,” Harry starts and clears his throat once both Niall and Louis look toward him, “unless you’d like to join us?”

Niall’s eyebrows shoot up at the question, and Louis pretends not to notice the blond’s clearly bemused expression or the fact that Harry’s offer is totally and completely 100% unjustified. Utterly out of the blue. They’d barely started a conversation and he’s asking Louis to join them for dinner?

Harry must realize the casualness of his question, because he’s quick to amend, “I mean, we’re just going to a pub? Niall said it’d be like a celebratory thing for the end of term and all, so. Might as well make it a party, yeah?”

Yeah. Definitely yeah. Louis pointedly chooses not to think about how an entire evening with this curly-haired boy sounds like a bloody dream. Instead, he shifts his board under his arm and responds, “As long as Niall doesn’t mind me tagging along?”

“Mind?” Niall laughs, loud and sudden. “Not a chance! Our mate Liam will be there, too. Ooh, might as well invite Zayn? Doubt he’s any wild plans for a night in,” he teases, and Louis misses the way the Irishman’s cheeks darken at mention of his flatmate, Zayn. “More the merrier, anyway!”

Louis laughs and nods his agreement. “Sounds brilliant,” he says and hopes it will be. With another look at Harry, he has a feeling it might be.

**

It is.

It really truly is brilliant, except.

Except that after Louis has a few beers in his system, he’s reaching across the table to touch Harry nearly every chance he can, and he’s taken to calling the boy “Curls” like he’s just an old friend. It makes Harry laugh, it _really_ makes him laugh, and it makes his smile shine something beautiful in the dim lights of the pub.

Harry doesn’t pull away from the touches, either, just laughs again, sucks in his lower lip, and tries to hide his smile around the straw in his fruity, pink drink. Louis pretends not to notice.

“You have a wicked amount of tattoos,” Harry states well into the evening. Their food baskets and plates are scattered along the tabletop, mostly empty save a few spare chips and half-eaten pickles and dirty, balled up napkins. It’s not much of a party, just five boys crowded around a too small table; Niall and Harry’s longtime friend Liam came out, and Louis was able to convince his flatmate Zayn to join them as well.

Niall is the only other one to hear Harry’s comment, and he snorts with a shake of the head before turning back to where Liam and Zayn are engaged in a surprisingly animated conversation about superhero films.

Louis laughs because he’s feeling light and sort of fuzzy, and his lips feel like they’re shaped into a permanent smile and because _honestly_. He holds out his arms, both of which are absolutely smothered in dark ink—some designs intricate and detailed, others just little stick-figure sketches squeezed between masterpieces. He grins and says, “We can thank Zayn for that.”

Harry wrinkles his brow and points toward the end of the table. “That Zayn?”

“The one and only.”

“Is that all his work?” Harry asks, sounding dumbfounded as his eyes fall back to Louis’ outstretched arms.

Louis nearly cackles at the idea and shakes his head. “God, no,” he answers and twists his arms for a better view. “A few of them are, like this one,” he says and points to a skateboarding stick figure that’s nearly drowned out by the pieces around it. “This was one of my firsts, actually. The start to _all_ of this.” He waves a hand upward from his arms, laughing lightly.

“Wooow,” Harry whistles lowly, letting his eyes run along Louis’ arms and up his neck to where just a few tattoos peek out from the collar of his shirt. His eyes are wide and he stares for a long moment before raising his eyes to meet Louis’. “Why’s it all Zayn’s fault, though?”

“Oh,” Louis begins with a grin and pulls his arms in from the tabletop, folding them neatly against his chest. “I hadn’t much liked tattoos until we met first year of university. Hated them, actually. Like properly turned my nose up at the sight of them, thought it was a genuinely stupid concept to permanently ink yourself up like this. But then we were paired together in housing first year and now, what? Six years later and I’m in over my head, very possibly addicted, and working at a parlor full-time. It’s probably a little bit insane.”

The curly-haired boy laughs along with Louis’ words, biting his lower lip to muffle the sound. But then, “You’re a tattoo artist?” he asks at the end of it, leaning a little farther across the table.

Louis nods slowly as he sips dangerously close to the bottom of his fourth beer. “To my mum’s quite everlasting dismay, yes.”

Harry’s eyes widen again, seem to spark, and he grins anxiously. “Would you do me sometime?”

Louis knows what Harry means, he _knows_ , but the alcohol in his system makes him sputter around the lip of his beer bottle all the same, his shoulders shaking with a laugh. “Not so fast, Curls,” he responds, his words vibrating with laughter, “at least buy me dinner first.”

A blush darkens the boy’s cheeks, noticeable even in the pub’s lighting, and he shakes his head with a silent laugh. “No, no, I mean,” Harry corrects around his giggles, his gaze falling to the table, “would you, you know, tattoo me sometime?”

“‘Course,” Louis answers maybe too quickly, and his smile is definitely just for the present conversation and not the promise of another meeting. “Not for free though or anything like that, mind. I’ve got to pay the bills somehow.”

“Right, right, of course.” Harry smiles and leans back on his stool. “I look forward to it.”

“As much as I’m loving your tattoo bonding over here,” Niall interrupts, angling enough in his seat to wrap an arm around Harry’s shoulders, “you better not deface our little Harry too much, alright?”

“ _Deface_ him?” Louis echoes, screwing up his face. He’s heard that word frequently over the years, and it always hits him like a punch to the gut.

Harry only rolls his eyes, though, and doesn’t seem bothered by the statement despite the few tattoos he has on his arm. “Don’t mind him,” he tells Louis, jerks a thumb toward Niall. “He’s only like this with me.”

“It’s true,” Niall confirms with a nodding head, his face pleasantly flushed. “Love tattoos, just—”

“Not on me,” Harry finishes.

“I wept when he got his first.”

“Second.”

Niall snaps a finger at Harry, his face lighting up. “Oh, oh, right, you hid that star from me for ages! Such a shit, honestly.”

“What was the second?” Louis can’t help but ask.

Harry sets down his drink and extends his left arm across the table, silently pointing to a small spot on the inside of his elbow. It’s impressively small—so small that Louis wraps a hand around Harry’s forearm to bring it closer and even then has to squint to make out any shape. It looks like a tiny letter A.

“It’s for my mum,” Harry supplies before Louis can even ask.

Niall tacks on, “He has a couple for his sister, too. A total sap, this one.”

“Aw, Curls,” Louis drags out the words, nearly cooing as he lets go of Harry’s arm. “Aren’t you just the cute family man. Are all of your tattoos for your family?”

Harry’s blushing again, but he’s positively beaming as well. “Not all,” he replies, “but most of them.”

“Mm,” Louis hums, watching as Harry’s arms twist back to a natural position against the table. There’s a large flower on the outside of his left forearm, blossoming just under his elbow. It’s not a rose, the shape and petals too large and compact, but Louis never much was one to study a garden. It has a light hint of pink to it, more color than any of the other splotches of ink along Harry’s skin, and it stands out the most. It’s big, too. Important. “How about this one,” Louis asks, dipping his beer bottle toward the flower, “is this just a pretty flower, or is it for family, too?”

Harry’s eyes smile at the question, his whole stance perking up. “For family. It’s actually for my—”

There’s the sudden screech of a stool against the floor, a slapping thud, and Harry cringes, one hand flying underneath the table as he sends Niall a glare. The blond doesn’t say anything, but he widens his eyes at Harry in a private sort of way that’s probably meant to be inconspicuous but isn’t at all. Louis watches amusedly, wonders how much of Niall’s exaggerated behavior can be pinned to the alcohol lighting up his cheeks, but pretends not to notice the exchange all the same.

“It’s for my, erm,” Harry starts again a moment later, his eyes and smile not as bright as before, “for a close relative—like a best friend, really. She, uh, doesn’t like me talking about it when she’s not present.”

“Oh?” Louis wonders without pressing for more. It strikes him as odd, like a terrible scapegoat of an answer, but he knows some stories are meant to be kept private. Humming softly, he adds, “It’s a beauty, though.”

The smile returns in full to Harry’s lips. “You think so?”

Louis nods. “It could even use more color, really. It’d pop more, you know? But yeah, definitely. Definitely a beauty.”

“I’ll, uh,” Harry pauses, his gaze momentarily falling to the piece in question. The smile wipes across his lips like some sort of prize when he finishes, “I’ll be sure to let her know.”

The conversation lulls for a moment as they both turn to their drinks, the noise of the pub momentarily overwhelming and Louis’ head suddenly swimming. He shakes his head, pushes his empty bottle away from him, and asks, “So, will I be adding to your family album of tattoos?”

The warm laugh Harry lets out leaves Louis buzzing more than the alcohol in his system.

**

Louis leaves the pub that night with an arm slung around Zayn’s shoulders, a sloppy laugh on his lips, and a new number in his phone, saved carefully under the name _Curls_.

**

“Who are you talking to all the time?”

Louis looks up from his phone to Laurie, their makeshift secretary and artist in training. It’s a painfully slow Tuesday afternoon. There’s only one client with their manager Tom at the moment, and the rest of them—Louis, Zayn, Laurie, and Seth—are lounging around the front room. They tried giving the place a good cleaning with their unexpected free time, but that effort hardly lasted ten minutes.

“Five quid says it’s Harry,” Zayn pipes up from across the room, not even looking up from the magazine in his hands.

Laurie lifts one dark, penciled brow above her thick-rimmed glasses. “Who’s Harry?”

“Just a new friend,” Louis replies, hating how it tastes like a lie on his tongue.

“His newest infatuation,” Zayn corrects, but Louis repeats in a firmer tone, “ _Just_ a friend.”

Seth doesn’t seem to care either way, dropping his attention back to his sketchbook, but Laurie smiles almost wickedly. “So, you’re infatuated with your _just_ new friend,” she summarizes. “Interesting. Is he cute?”

Louis rolls his eyes and Zayn snorts, flipping a magazine page. “He’s adorable.”

“Adorable?” Laurie makes a sour face, sounding skeptical. “I’ve never seen you with _adorable_ , Louis.”

“Laurie, to be fair, you’ve never seen me with anybody,” Louis points out. His phone vibrates in his hand, but he ignores the message for a minute in favor of the conversation—the conversation he’d rather not be a part of, but.

“False,” Laurie says and holds up a finger. “When I started here you were with that tall, dark, and handsome fellow. The one who looked like he probably only listens to coffee shop music and buttons up his shirts through the collar? Classy, hipster-y, maybe a dash of cute, too. But even he was miles from ‘adorable.’”

“Okay, okay, but that was hardly even a thing.” His phone vibrates again and he forces himself to not look at the screen. “Besides, Harry is just a friend, alright?”

Zayn hums from his seat and purses his lips. “If Harry’s just a friend I might start to get jealous, Lou. You’ve talked to him more in the past week than you have to me, and we live together.”

“Oh, I have not,” Louis disagrees, resisting an exasperated sigh.

“You have, mate.”

“Aw, Louis,” Laurie coos, “You of all people should know Zayn has very delicate feelings. You can’t just go around replacing him like that.”

“Oh, fuck off, the lot of you,” Louis gripes as he stands up and finally heads toward the back room. He stops just as he’s stepped into the corridor and leans enough to peek his head around the corner, glancing back into the front room. “Except for you, Seth,” he amends, earning a smile from his least nosy co-worker. Possibly his new favorite co-worker, actually. “I like Seth.”

Zayn and Laurie both holler after him in protest, but Louis pretends not to hear as he sneaks into the back break room. It’s small and dingy, and the only ventilation is a little plastic tabletop fan that sits on top of the mini-fridge in the corner. They hardly frequent the break room, but Louis can handle it for a few minutes of peace and quiet. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he plops into one of the plastic chairs and kicks his feet up on the table.

And maybe Louis escapes for a moment of peace and quiet, but maybe it’s also so he can turn back to his phone and the three messages that are waiting there for him – all from _Curls_.

**

Maybe this is a bad idea.

Harry is on his way over—just for a night in of pizza and FIFA. Zayn will be there. Niall might even stop in at some point. It’s not a big deal. It’s a friendly gathering. Emphasis on friendly. Like, bolded, italicized, underlined, capitalized **_FRIENDLY_**. But it’s also the first time Louis has seen Harry since the pub, the first he’ll see him since his overly touchy drunken state. He doesn’t know how well they’ll mesh outside of the dim lights and loud conversations of the pub. Maybe they won’t mesh at all.

Louis’ sick to his stomach by the time the buzzer sounds.

“That’s all yours,” Zayn says from his spot at the kitchen table—situated hardly ten steps from the intercom next to the door.

But Louis only nods and stands from the sofa with an inward sigh, ignoring the rush of nerves that sweep over him. This is dumb. There’s nothing to be nervous about. Nothing. So when he notices his hand shaking when he lifts it toward the intercom, he maybe presses the talk button a little harder than necessary. He clears his throat shortly and asks, “That the pizza delivery lad?”

There’s a laugh on the other end—a laugh Louis really doesn’t understand how he already recognizes so well. “In a sense,” Harry answers, and there’s the sound of rustling plastic. “I come bearing a few frozen Italian delicacies.”

“Ah, a true gentleman,” Louis laughs. “Come on in, Curls. Flat 217. The lift’s not even worth the wait.” He buzzes Harry in, and Zayn snorts from beside him. “What?”

His flatmate shakes his head, keeping his eyes trained on a rough design sketch as he mockingly responds, “ _A_ _true gentleman_.”

“Oi, he’s bringing us food, Zayn. Free food,” Louis emphasizes. “We do not mock generosity.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Zayn replies and turns toward Louis for a short moment. He smiles cheekily. “Only mocking you, babe.”

Louis flips him off and opens his mouth to retort just as there’s a quick rap on the door. It’s short and dull but startles him all the same, even though it shouldn’t have. And somehow, despite knowing who stands on the other side, his stomach still knots as he twists the lock, turns the knob, and pulls open the door to reveal—

And well, _fuck._  Harry looks even better than Louis remembers. He’s dressed in another pair of black skinny jeans with a plaid flannel button-up that’s only half-way buttoned, and his hair’s coifed into some messy faux-quiff that makes it look like he’s been running his hands through his curls all day. His eyes are hidden behind a pair of dark Ray-Bans, but his smile is on full display as he lifts and waves two plastic shopping bags in greeting. “How about some food?”

“Food is actually the only way we let anyone enter our flat,” Louis says, opening the door a little farther and shifting to the side.

Harry laughs, moves his sunglasses from his nose to rest on top his head, and his smile brightens. “Glad I came prepared, then,” he replies and steps past Louis and into the flat. “Where should I put these?”

“Kitchen probably makes the most sense,” falls naturally, and Louis bites his tongue as soon as the sharp words leave his mouth.

But Harry only laughs, responds, “Thanks for that, Louis, really. Some days I forget kitchens are a thing, you know?”

“Anything to help, Curls,” Louis quips and motions toward the kitchen, leading Harry with a light touch to his elbow. Harry doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t pull away, doesn’t flinch; he follows Louis’ lead and only breaks away to shove the frozen pizzas into the freezer.

It’s only then that Harry seems to notice Zayn, jumping as he leans against the counter. “Oh, Zayn, hi. Didn’t see you there.”

“Not surprising,” Zayn comments with a laugh. Harry furrows his brow, but Zayn just shakes his head, smiles instead. “Nice to see you, man.”

“Pleasure all around, I’m sure,” Louis cuts in before their small talk can continue. “But Curls, you promised me an entertainingly brutal game of FIFA. How ‘bout it?”

Harry’s smile turns into something of a devilish grin. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

Louis thought he was. But as he watches Harry pass him into the living room and settle in for the evening, walking around the flat like he’s been there a hundred times already, he has half a mind to say otherwise.

**

“Who stores flammable items in an _oven_?”

The evening was going fairly well—despite Harry being surprisingly skilled at FIFA and leaving Louis resorting to dirty tactics, not limited to kicking the controller from Harry’s hands or elbowing him in the side, to score—up until they break for dinner.

Harry’s still shaking his head and muttering under his breath as he resets the oven to preheat once more—this time without the extra dish towels, hot pads, and oven mitts inside. There were extra pans, too, but those hadn’t caused Harry’s eyes to bulge out of his head quite like the other items had.

“In our defense,” Louis interrupts Harry’s mutterings, “we probably haven’t used the oven in over a month. Maybe two. Zayn, when was it your sister visited?”

“Oh, uh… Sometime in March, maybe?”

“Aha! See?” Louis points to Zayn. “Last time we made a proper sit-down meal—March. Two months ago.”

Harry doesn’t laugh, though. He actually looks a little horrified; his eyes are widened with disbelief and his brow is slightly scrunched in the middle.

“What?” Louis asks.

“How the hell have you two been eating for the past couple months?”

Zayn and Louis both wordlessly point to the microwave in response.

“For two months, though?” Harry asks, his tone incredulous. “ _Two_ months!”

They both shrug, and Louis explains rather simply, “We’re pretty shit cooks.”

“And we order quite a bit of takeaway,” Zayn adds, not looking guilty about it. They chose the cheaper, smaller, more run-down flat 3 years ago because they knew they’d need the extra pocket cash for delivery and takeaway and the occasional restaurant splurge. Being shit cooks is nothing new to Louis and Zayn.

“Still,” Harry insists, shaking his head as he leans against the edge of the counter, “you should know how to make something that requires more than a microwave, shouldn’t you?”

Louis and Zayn shrug again, and Harry sighs like he already realizes it’s a hopeless case. A good realization, really. Louis’ mother hadn’t given up on teaching Louis to cook until he was 22.

Once the pizza is in the oven, Zayn grabs his sketchbook and wanders back toward his bedroom—“need some quiet to finish this up, holler when it’s ready, yeah?”—and leaves Harry and Louis alone in the kitchen.

The kitchen is kind of ridiculously small, narrow enough that Louis and Zayn even have trouble stepping around each other to make breakfast (‘make’ meaning ‘pour cereal into a bowl’, to be perfectly clear). With Harry leaning on the counter opposite him, it makes it feel even smaller, like maybe the walls and cabinets are suddenly closing in or like maybe there’s not enough air for two. Which, well, that’s a ridiculous thought in and of itself considering the kitchen is far from enclosed.

Taking a deep breath, Louis laughs on the exhale. “Guess we’re making an excellent first impression, huh?”

Harry’s arms are folded across his chest, and he’s looking down at the scuffed toes of his boots. Louis can still see his smile, though, and make out the barely-there laugh that goes along with the dimple in his cheek. He’s silent for a moment before shaking his head. “You were doing pretty well up until the dishcloths in your oven.”

Louis makes a noise somewhere between a whine and sigh. “I promise we’re not really _that_ daft. We’d just run out of drawer and cabinet space and ended up using the oven for overflow. And since we don’t really use the oven…”

“It just made sense,” Harry finishes, nodding along. He raises his eyes then and stares at Louis for all of a minute before laughing again. “I can’t believe you guys only use the microwave.”

“But we’re very skilled with the microwave, actually,” Louis says. “I’ll have you know I’ve impressed several dates with my vast microwaving knowledge and talent. It’s a gift. Should probably audition for Britain's Got Talent next time round, if I’m honest.”

Harry barks a laugh so loud that he slaps a hand over his mouth to keep it muted. He almost looks surprised at the sound of it, and the laughter remains in his eyes even after the sound trails off and he’s saying, “Those must be some impressive skills.”

“Massively impressive,” Louis confirms with a confident nod. The smile on his lips feels too much like a beaming grin, but he can’t be bothered to tone it down with Harry’s laughter still ringing in his ears.

“Right, right, okay,” Harry starts after a moment, composure regained. “Impressive or not, you guys need to eat something that doesn’t come out of a Tesco freezer—”

“Ah, our delivery isn’t out of a Tesco freezer,” Louis interrupts.

“ _Or_ from a delivery or takeaway container, alright?” Harry clarifies with the hum of a laugh to his words.

There’s a beat before Louis’ smile fades and he wonders rather worriedly, “Are you suggesting we learn how to cook?”

“No, no, not presently,” Harry laughs, and there’s just the slightest hint of color to his cheeks. “I was actually suggesting you let me cook you guys a proper meal sometime. Like, a main dish with actual sides and nutrients kind of proper.”

“Oh.” It catches Louis off guard. If he were walking, he imagines he might stumble because that’s what it feels like his brain does—stumbles over the suggestion like tripping over uneven pavement. He’s had mates invite him to tea or big, celebratory meals before, but people don’t often offer to cook _for_ him. And, he thinks, their first impression must not be too horrid if Harry’s already vaguely making plans for the future.

It sends a flutter through his stomach for all the wrong reasons, but he smiles and agrees. “That’d be wicked, Curls.”

The light blush falls from Harry’s cheeks, and he smiles widely.

**

The two pizzas are mostly eaten and their dirty plates are stacked in the middle of the coffee table by the time the buzzer sounds for the second time that night.

“Should be Niall,” Harry says, not looking away from the television. Evidently the game of Mario Kart they’ve moved onto is more important.

“Zayn,” Louis speaks brokenly as he leans into a turn with his controller, “your turn. Door. Niall. Thanks. Please.”

Zayn grunts but doesn’t move, not until the buzzer sounds again. He waits a moment more before heaving a sigh and getting up from the sofa.

Louis doesn’t register anything else (besides the screen, of course, since Rainbow Road requires one’s full attention) until there’s a booming voice telling him, “Budge up, will you? I call next race.”

Niall shoves his way onto the sofa beside Louis, successfully pushing him until he’s hip to hip with Harry. Which, unsurprisingly, sends Louis driving off the colorful course and plunging into darkness. He really hopes that’s not figurative.

“Nice to see you, too, Niall, thanks for making me lose,” Louis says in lieu of a simple hello.

“Wouldn’t have won anyway,” Niall figures with a shrug. “See?”

He points to the screen and sure enough, Harry’s character (Princess Peach—somehow, Louis thought he should have expected it) is driving across the finish line in a close 2nd place. Last time Louis had snuck a peek at Harry’s side of the screen he’d been trailing in 7th.

“Absolute cheater.”

“Isn’t he?” Niall laughs, and Harry looks toward them both with a smug grin.

It suits him, but Louis can’t possibly let Harry know that. Instead, he shakes his head and starts rashly, “Oh, that’s just fucking bullshit. You’ve rigged this, haven’t you?” He makes a show of waving the controller around, snatches Harry’s as well. “That’s it, we can’t be playing this anymore. I won’t be cheated in my own house, you hear?” He’s being dramatic, nearly embarrassingly so, but it has Harry laughing all the same. Which, well. That’s the goal, isn’t it? Getting Harry to laugh?

“Alright, cool, I’ll play Niall,” Zayn cuts in and picks the controllers from Louis’ hands.

Louis huffs a sigh, crossing his arms against his chest as he leans back into the cushions. Harry’s leg feels warm against his own. He forces his eyes away, glances at the screen as Zayn and Niall sort through their game options. His gaze stays situated for a minute before dropping to the forgotten plates on the table, the glasses sitting on the wood, half on and half off of scattered papers and magazines. There’s clutter everywhere. Shifting his eyes toward the television he can see three different stacks of DVD, CD, and game cases they were too lazy to put away; there’s an old Coke can beside the X-Box, a Snickers wrapper lying beside one of Louis’ shirts on the floor, right in front of the TV.

And suddenly every item that doesn’t belong in the room seems to stand out—glaringly—and Louis’ cheeks darken as he pulls his eyes away from the rest of the room. “Sorry about the mess, by the way,” he says, hoping it’s enough to make up for the state of things but also kind of hoping no one hears him say it.

Niall laughs, looking away from the screen for a moment as he chooses his vehicle. “Mess? _This_?” He shakes his head, looking back to the telly. “Mate, you wanna see a mess you should go to Harry’s. Absolute disaster zone.”

“Thanks, Niall,” Harry replies flatly and almost looks offended. Almost.

“Really?” Louis asks, genuinely curious. “You don’t seem the messy type.” Not from the way he’s picked up after himself all evening, carefully wiping up even a drop of soda from the counter. Not from the way it seems he’s always ‘ _not much, just doing the wash’_ or ‘ _finishing up dishes’_ or ‘ _cleaning the bathroom, wanna trade? :P’_ nearly every time Louis texts him a simple ‘ _what’s up?’_

“ _I’m_ not,” is Harry’s reply.

“Messy roommate?” Zayn guesses.

“Hah, that’s one way to put it!” Niall says with a laugh and what looks like a cheeky wink toward Harry. “She’s a bit of a slob, isn’t she?” _She_ sticks in Louis’ ears.

“She is not,” Harry’s quick to refute. “She’s just... She doesn’t always pick up after herself.”

“Right, right, okay, let’s see,” Niall starts and puts his controller aside to count on his fingers. “She never washes her dishes, of course, can’t be bothered to put her dirty clothes in the hamper no matter how often you remind her, makes a mess every time she tries to pour her own drink, leaves a trail of crumbs _everywhere_ , horrible at wiping up toilet messes, always needs reminding to brush her teeth, never ever makes her bed, leaves her things wherever they fall... Have I covered enough bases here, or should I keep going?”

There’s a twinkle in Niall’s eye and mirth along his lips when he finishes. But Harry shakes his head, despite the smile that pinches his lips, and insists, “She’s not that bad.”

The blond smirks as he picks up his controller. “Dunno, Harry,” he says, his words shaking with a laugh, “she’s kind of like a child, isn’t she?”

Harry blushes at the statement, but his reaction is overpowered as Zayn laughs and comments, “I can relate.”

“Wow,” Louis deadpans. “Thanks, Zayn.”

Zayn laughs again as he clicks through to start the first race, but he coos, “Love you, Louis.”

Louis huffs. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Aw,” Harry draws out as the game starts, his voice low like it’s only meant for Louis—and maybe it is. He wraps an arm around Louis’ shoulders and pulls him into a side hug. “I’m sure you’re not _that_ bad.”

Louis doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he doesn’t say anything at all. But Harry keeps his arm around Louis’ shoulders as their eyes drift back toward the game on screen. His touch is light, friendly, but it’s also warm and inviting and Louis doubts the smile on the boy’s lips has much to do with Mario Kart at all.

**

“He works in a library.”

Zayn looks up from his box of takeaway, his face a little blank. “Okay, and?”

A blush floods Louis’ cheeks, and he shrugs. “Nothing,” he murmurs in reply and keeps his head bowed over his food. “Just making conversation.”

_I just think it’s sort of cute_ , he swallows around a mouthful of orange chicken and rice.

**

“It’s private.”

“What?” Zayn asks ludicrously and scoots over enough to peer at the screen of Louis’ laptop. “Who makes their Facebook private nowadays?”

“Cute guys named Harry Styles, apparently,” Louis replies quietly and, in vain, tries to click on the profile picture again. Clicking on the small square photo doesn’t do a thing, though. It doesn’t enlarge, it doesn’t bring up his other profile photos or anything. His About shows nothing other than where he works and the university he’s attending. His Timeline is bare. The Add Friend button isn’t even visible. “It’s, like, properly locked down, look at this.”

Zayn pushes Louis’ hand away from the trackpad and turns the laptop more toward him, as though clicking on things himself might magically change the security settings. Naturally, nothing changes. “Damn,” he comments, sitting upright again, “that’s wild.”

Louis laughs in disbelief and leans in toward his screen, squinting just a little. “I know. Can’t even really tell what his photo is.” What he can make out of it looks like a long distance silhouette on a beach, presumably Harry walking along the sand with some kid—a sibling or niece or nephew, Louis assumes. It’s sort of artsy—more artistic than the selfies clogging Louis’ newsfeed—and tastefully adorable.

His flatmate laughs as he moves back to the other end of the sofa, picking up his own laptop. He remarks amusedly, “So much for Facebook stalking.” 

**

**_never seen it_ **

Louis’ eyes bulge at the text, and he rolls onto his back, turning his phone sideways in his hands. _harry how have you nOT seen the new spiderman ? is it andrew garfield? do you not like andrew garfield ??? even my stepdad can appreciate andrew’s face !_

**_Andrew’s fine, haha. Emma, too. idk just haven’t really had the time?_ **

_Make. The. Time._

**_I’ll try!_ **

_do it !!_

**_I’ll tryyyy_ **

A minute passes without another text, no typing text bubbles popping up on the left side of the screen. Louis drops his phone against his chest, mindlessly drumming his fingers against it as he waits for a vibration to break his train of thought. None comes while he stares at the ceiling, and he huffs a decisive sigh before picking up his phone again. His thumbs hover over the keyboard for a breath before he types out and sends:

_i have a copy. come over and watch ?_

The grey typing bubble pops up almost immediately, and then disappears. It pops up again and stays on screen for thirty seconds, the ellipses blinking at Louis mockingly.

**_Now?_ **

Louis snorts at the painfully short reply. _yeah ! if u can_

The screen turns off before Harry’s reply buzzes through. **_I can’t tonight. Bit busy :/_**

It feels like a swift kick to Louis’ gut because, _oh thought you were bored?_ That’s what Harry had said two hours before, at ten o’clock on a Friday night.

The text bubble pops up and disappears twelve times. **_I ammmm but I can’t come over tonight… sorta tied up with things here at the moment, sorry :(_**

It’s the fourth time that week Harry shoots down evening plans with a vague excuse, and Louis doesn’t bother questioning it.

**

“You like him,” Zayn states rather bluntly. They’re standing on opposite sides of the same clothing rack, and they’re far from being the only customers in the shop.

Louis lets the statement stand for a minute before replying, “I like his curls.”

Zayn breathes out a sigh and continues sifting through the shirts.

**

**_hiiiii :) how was practice?_ **

Louis finds the message lighting up the screen of his phone as he pulls to a stop at a red light. Football practice only let out ten minutes prior. The fact that Harry remembered has Louis biting back a smile as the light turns green.

**

“It’s not that hard a question, Niall.”

The blond shakes his head, cackling as he pulls off his helmet and wipes his forearm across his sweaty forehead. “You’re not getting the answer from me, mate,” Niall says. “That shit’s personal.”

“Nialler, come _on_ ,” Louis whines, trailing on Niall’s heels as he wanders away from the half-pipe. “I told you that Zayn goes both ways.”

Niall’s cheeks darken a shade, and he glances away, mumbles, “That’s different.”

“How?”

“Zayn never really hides it, like.”

“So Harry _is_ hiding something?”

Niall levels Louis with a glare. “Not what I said, Tommo.”

Louis grunts a sound of frustration. “Can’t you at least give me a hint?”

“Not a chance.”

“It’s not like I’m asking you to reveal his deepest and darkest secrets, I just—I just want to know if he plays for the same team or not.”

“Right, and that’s personal.” Niall turns to face Louis then. There’s still a smile pinned to his lips, despite how serious his tone is when he settles, “If you want to know, ask Harry yourself, alright?”

**

It comes up a couple days later. It’s 2 a.m. and what started out as 20 Questions has diminished into a back and forth firing of personal inquiries. Louis’ eyes are heavy, and he’s stifling a yawn into the back of his hand when the text buzzes through.

**_Errrrrm ok next q… what was your last date?_ **

Louis’ stomach flip-flops as he reads the text a second time. It’s nearly innocent and he’s sure he hasn’t been holding back any comments about his preferences since knowing Harry, but his thumbs shake all the same as he punches out his reply.

_oh haha it was sort of lame ? this guy took me to a little place that had live music but the sound was shit and we couldn’t even hear the singer. and our orders got messed up . oh and the guy insisted on sitting beside me at the booth ???? weird. also he had killer bad breath. surprised i survived the night tbh_

**_that sounds awful_ **

_it sort of was, hah_

**_sorry :(_ **

_not ur fault_

A beat passes and Louis sends before he can stop himself: _alright same question for you curls :)_

**_Should’ve assumed. :P Uhhhh I haven’t quite been on a proper date in a couple years?_ **

_A COUPLE YEARS ?? !_

**_Not much for dating I guess?_ **

_guess soooo. you totally just robbed me of a question tho like that was pretty lame wtf_

**_Haha fine, you can re-do_ **

‘Do you like guys?’ doesn’t seem like it should be such a hard question to ask. It’s short. It’s simple. It’s to the point. But Louis finds himself tapping it out and deleting it three times in the darkness of his room that night. He deletes it a fourth time and sends in its place: _last person you kissed ?_

The grey text bubble doesn’t appear for several seconds that feel incredibly long. **_Erm, this guy named Aiden I think? Was an awful mistletoe setup at Niall’s Christmas party last year_**

_Guyguyguy_ runs through Louis’ mind. _set up?_

**_Niall thinks he’s aces at matchmaking sometimes. Horrible, though. Absolutely horrible._ **

Louis agrees, and it’s a challenge to ignore the fluttery feeling in his chest as their conversation continues on.

**

Zayn laughs on their way to the tattoo shop the next day and gives Louis’ arm a good shove. “I told you, you idiot.”

**

Harry finds a free night on a Monday, which is how they end up lounging on the sofa at Louis’ flat with a large bowl of popcorn between them and _The Amazing Spider-man_ playing on the TV. It’s only their third time being together in person, but with the amount they’ve been texting it feels like something normal. The air doesn’t feel stiff or the conversation awkward, and for all the butterflies crowding up Louis’ stomach everything just feels so… easy.

By the time the film’s halfway through, Louis is reclined on the sofa with his legs stretched over Harry’s lap and the popcorn bowl trapped between them. Harry doesn’t push him away.

**

**_Look – it’s a massive paper cut I’m not exaggerating!_** Harry sends a crying emoji along with a photo of his hand.

Louis laughs at the message and pulls up the photo to fill the screen. There’s a long slice along Harry’s index finger, big enough that it makes Louis cringe just looking at it. But the cut doesn’t hold his attention for long, not when he notices Harry’s nails are messily painted a pale yellow.

_Ha ha hahahahaha, nice nails harry_

**_Oh. Thanks. :D_ **

_Little sisters ?_ Louis asks, because he’s been victim of many nail-painting experiments on visits back home.

**_Something like that, yeah. But would you look at the size of that cut? Construction paper’s the worst :( :( :(_ **

_Aw shall I kiss it better ? Ha ha !_

**_Might help… :P_ **

“Stop flirting at work,” Zayn says, making Louis jump as he speaks over his shoulder. He’s smiling, though, and gives Louis’ sides a quick pinch. “Or at least ask the boy out, won’t you?”

Louis rolls his eyes at his friend, despite the knot the suggestion ties in his stomach. Because painted nails and playing with construction paper on a Saturday afternoon? Louis doesn’t know if he’ll ever understand Harry.

**

But it’s the following Monday when Louis musters up enough courage to say _fuck it._

_Fuck it, I’m gonna do it_ , he says to himself as he walks down the steps of the apartment complex. Harry’s waiting outside and they’ll be on their way to pick up some Indian food Louis called in on his way home from work. There’s a nervous shake to Louis’ legs with every step, but it turns anxious when he pushes open the front door to find Harry leaning against the outside wall. He looks tired, exhausted even, with a dark tint under his eyes. But he looks up when he hears the door and smiles toothily. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hi, Lou.”

“Curls,” Louis greets with a short nod. He tries to smile but it feels unstable along his lips.

“How was work?”

“Can’t complain,” Louis replies with a shrug. It feels like his heart is resting in his throat. “You?”

Harry sighs and scrubs a hand down his face, but he starts in on a recount of some library program he’s helping to coordinate with the women in the children’s section. They’re making decisions without his input, which would generally have Louis fuming with indignation at the injustices. But that’s all he hears before zoning out Harry’s voice nearly altogether, his mind running too fast with unspoken questions and rehearsed words to keep up with the conversation.

They’re two blocks away from the Indian restaurant when the words piling up along Louis’ tongue finally fall free in the midst of Harry’s sentence: “Do you want to go out tomorrow?”

Harry’s voice stops along with his steps, and Louis turns his head to find the younger boy staring at him curiously. His jaw is still ajar, hanging open mid-sentence, and he looks nothing short of dumbfounded. It’s a minute later when he mumbles, “Wh-what?”

Louis’ heart beats in his ears. His mouth is dry, and his voice sounds higher as he clarifies, “Tomorrow night, you and me, like… Like a date?”

“Oh,” Harry says and there’s just the hint of a smile at his lips. A small hint that Louis must have imagined because his next words are, “I’m busy tomorrow.”

_Oh_.

Harry must see some of the hurt that Louis is too slow to mask, because he’s quick to tack on, “I mean I’d really like to, I just. I’ve just got my hands tied up tomorrow night.”

A cold laugh vibrates in Louis’ throat. “I can handle a no, Harold.”

“Honestly, I am!”

They’re a block away from the restaurant, and Louis starts walking again as he continues, “Harry, really, I can take a hint if you truly don’t want—”

But Harry cuts off Louis’ self-deprecating assurances and blurts out, “I have a daughter.”

And it must hit Louis like freight train. Or maybe it doesn’t really hit him at all, because it barely registers when he stammers, “W-what?”

“I have a daughter,” Harry repeats and scrubs a hand down his face again, sighing into it before he continues. “And I just, I can’t go out. Not tomorrow, alright? I—I have to take care of my daughter, and her birthday party’s in a couple days and none of the goody bags are even started and I need to make the cake yet, which I still need ingredients for, and we still haven’t heard back from Patricia about whether or not Emily will be able to make it and it’ll break Lia’s heart if Emily doesn’t show up because they’ve become the greatest friends this spring in dance—and balloons! I still have to pick up the balloons! And none of her gifts are wrapped yet, like I still need to buy a few which is just whack ‘cause she’s my kid, right, I should have the gifts for my own kid’s party. But everything’s just been piling up, and I’m sorry but I’m actually truly, honestly, genuinely busy, okay?”

Louis stutters for a moment. Blinks, _blanks_ , before Harry’s words fully hit him and he’s looking at the younger boy with wide eyes. “You… You have a kid.”

They’re stopped now, four doors down from the restaurant, facing each other in the middle of the walk. Louis wishes they were facing each other for any other reason.

There’s a pinched look to Harry’s face, and it looks like maybe he’s not breathing at all when he confirms, “Yeah…”

Louis _laughs_. He laughs because it’s so ridiculous it’s perfect. He laughs because it actually makes sense; it explains so much, from the vague late-night excuses and child-like roommate to the nail polish and construction paper crafts. It seems so obvious now that it’s brushing on absurd, and Louis sputters out around his laughter, “You – you complete and total _arsehole_!”

Harry’s eyes widen. “Sorry?”

“You have a kid!” Louis says again, laughter still shaking through him. “You have a kid and you’ve kept it a secret this entire time! I can’t believe you would do that. _Why_ would you do that?” And then it really hits Louis like a train, and his laughter stills and he regards Harry with a straight face and serious tone because _fuck, Curls has a kid. Harry has a kid and he didn’t tell me._ “Seriously, why the hell would you keep that quiet?”

A blush fills Harry’s cheeks, and he runs a hand through his curls. His eyes don’t meet Louis’. “I don’t know, I just thought… _Niall_ thought it would help me, I don’t know, meet people if I just acted like…” He raises both hands and drops them with a sigh.

“Not a 22 year old guy with a kid?” Louis offers, and Harry nods.

“It was stupid, _so_ stupid, I know, but then—I don’t know,” Harry trails off with a half shrug. His eyes flit upward after a moment, “Guess I didn’t know how to tell you once Niall had already played her off as just my _roommate_.”

“Your messy roommate… who needs reminding to brush her teeth,” Louis remembers the words with a laugh. Makes sense. It’s stupid, but it makes sense. And maybe he should be more bothered than he is, more miffed about being mostly blindsided, but instead he’s wondering quitely, “How old is she?”

The tension on Harry’s face eases away slowly, and there’s almost a smile curling along his lips. “She’ll be four on Thursday.”

“Four? Wow.” Louis calculates it out silently. 18. Harry was 18 when he… _when he became a dad_ the thought settles in his mind with a solid weight.

“Yeah, I know,” Harry says with a look akin to awe lighting up his face. He bites his lip, though, and shakes his head, like he’s keeping himself from saying any more. Or maybe like he’s not quite sure what to say at all.

So Louis gives his elbow a light touch and nods them to continue on down the street. “Order should be ready by now, yeah?” Harry stares at him for just a moment, really stares—like green searching blue for any sign of sizzling anger or a hint of a hysterical breakdown or maybe even a shard of sadness—and then nods in agreement.

They walk the rest of the way in silence, only speaking to pick up their order and pay. Harry keeps his lower lip tucked under his teeth the whole time, his eyes landing anywhere but on Louis. It makes Louis’ chest feel tight.

As fast as Louis’ thoughts are racing and as much as his heart is pounding, he can’t keep himself from saying what he says once they’re on their way back toward the flat: “So this week’s sort of busy, right, but how’s your schedule look Saturday night?”

He doesn’t look toward Harry, but he can feel the younger boy react all the same. He can hear the smile in Harry’s voice a minute later when he wonders, “You still want to… Even knowing that I… ?”

“Eloquently said, Curls,” Louis teases, and a knot unwinds in his stomach at Harry’s laugh.

“Sorry, sorry, but,” Harry starts and there’s a light touch to Louis’ side to get his attention, “really? You’re… cool with me, you know—”

“Having a kid?” Louis finishes for him and lets a smile slide across his lips. He takes a minute to consider his answer, thinks about what Zayn will probably say to him, about how his mum might react if she were here right now. He thinks about how sudden and sort of absurd this really is, how it’s all new and unexplored territory for him. But he also considers the alternative, considers _minding_ the circumstances and maybe staying ‘just friends’ with this boy, with the untamed curls and dimpled smile, but somehow also keeping his hands to himself at the same time. It makes his chest ache just a little, his fingers itch. He doesn’t like the alternative.

And apparently Mondays are the days to say _fuck it_ , because that’s exactly what Louis says.


	2. June pt. 1

“Louis.”

“Mmmffhh.”

“Louis. It’s after one in the afternoon.”

There’s a low groan from under the sheets.

“Get up, Lou.”

“No.”

“Get your arse out of bed or I’ll throw your favorite Vans in the garbage.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Wanna bet?”

Louis groans again, but there’s some shifting under the sheets this time. He stills for too long just to have a pillow thrown at him.

“Unnecessary, Malik.”

“Not leaving till I see your baby blues, Tommo.”

There’s another groan, until finally Louis wrestles free from the sheets, falling halfway off the bed in the process. He blinks, an upside down Zayn coming into focus as he hangs off the mattress. “Pleased?” he grunts.

“Very,” Zayn deadpans. “What’s got you all mopey?”

“‘M not mopey.”

“It’s almost two o’clock.”

“Can’t I just be tired?”

“You weren’t out that late.”

“I’m stocking up on my sleep.”

Zayn gives him an unimpressed look, and Louis heaves a sigh, letting his eyes close. “Harry has a kid.”

Louis hears Zayn sputter a laugh, keeps his eyes closed as Zayn adds, “Okay, yeah, sure. C’mon, Lou, what’s really bothering you?”

“Harry has a daughter.”

“You're not... serious?”

“Harry has a four-year old daughter.”

“What?”

“Harry has his own little, tiny human being who is his.” Louis is met with silence in the moments to follow, until the bed slowly dips next to him. He doesn’t open his eyes. He feels like he should probably move before all of the blood flows to his head, but he doesn’t want to face reality just yet.

“Okay, well, this isn’t the end of the world. So he has a kid? He’s still Harry, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s just… A lot.” With a sigh, Louis finally pulls himself fully back onto the bed, collapsing on his back next to Zayn. He glances up to find his friend staring down at him, concern etched along his brow.

“Because you like him?”

Louis closes his eyes again for a moment as he confirms, “Because I really like him.”

“Okay, so,” Zayn trails off, giving Louis’ arm a comforting squeeze, “what are you afraid of?”

“It changes everything,” Louis replies simply, blinking up at the ceiling. “Kids are a lot of responsibility, and we can’t—it would make any relationship really serious really early on.”

Zayn is quiet for a minute again. “But you really like him?”

“Really, really.”

“Then you make it work.”

“How?”

Louis looks toward Zayn in time to see him shrug. He offers an easy smile, says, “You’re a good person, and you’re good with kids. From what I’ve seen, Harry seems like a good person, too, and you really like him, so. You make it work.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

Zayn shrugs, seeming totally unconcerned with that prospect. “What if it does?”

**

**_there is a second child here. the party does not start for two more hours._ **

That’s the message Louis wakes up to see on his phone that Thursday. He sends back a quick reply, even though the text is already an hour old.

His phone doesn’t vibrate again until he’s on his way to work:

**_30 seconds in and a child is already crying_ **

And the texts start to pile up on his lock screen as the afternoon wears on. Louis taps out a short reply when he can, a quick word of advice or a goofy, sympathetic emoji, but he’s mostly left to glancing at his phone between clients and on breaks. Harry’s afternoon sounds dreadful from the broken up texts, but Louis can’t keep from smiling.

**_so tired of finding nemo and it’s only been 10 min_ **

**_did i mention the theme is finding nemo?_ **

**_everyone’s making ‘whale’ noises_ **

**_it is as annoying as it sounds, i promise_ **

**_WHY DO LITTLE GIRLS SHRIEK_ **

**_lia is pouty because someone else blew out her candles_ **

**_gotta relight the candles or the wish won’t come true~_ **

**_have you ever had cake in your ear?_ **

**_and hair?_ **

**_and all over your shirt?_ **

**_it’s quite unpleasant_ **

The fact that Harry’s taking time out from his ‘busiest day all year’ (as he’d claimed the night before) to keep Louis updated has him biting back a grin as he starts in on his last job of the day.

**_my carpet is never gonna come back from this_ **

**_i’m going to see glitter in my nightmares_ **

**_a kid almost peed his pants_ **

**_waiting on one more kid and then i have to clean yayyyyy_ **

**_so. much. glitter._ **

**_so much._ **

**_lia won’t even help why do i even have a kid then_ **

**_she’s so happy tho i can’t even be mad :’)_ **

Attached with the last text is a selfie of Harry with presumably Lia, both of them smiling widely at the camera. The little girl has a tiara perched upon loose, light brown curls that hang just past her shoulders and eyes that are just as strikingly green as Harry’s. The thought of Harry with a kid in the abstract was mind-boggling; seeing it up close and undeniable is something like breathtaking.

**

Louis has never been the type to freak out over what he plans to wear on a date. If he's told their destination is something fancy, he'll pull out something nicer than a t-shirt, exchange his skinny black jeans for some chinos or maybe even slacks, and that's the end of that. If they're headed somewhere casual, he might not even change beforehand. No fretting over tops or worrying about what's most impressive. It's whatever, and it's worked out for him so far.

But, _but_ , Louis would be lying to himself if he says he doesn't spend an extra moment sifting through his closet and drawers that Saturday night. Well, Saturday evening, really. They're meeting at 6 p.m. because Harry only has the babysitter till 9. Which, Jesus Christ, 'babysitter'. That sounds so weird. So fucking weird.

But none of that really matters. Babysitters and kids and the surreal feeling of it all are the last things on Louis' mind when he walks up to Sarafina's. Harry's there, leaning against the wall beside the entrance, one foot kicked up against the bricks. He's wearing a blue button-up, the sleeves rolled up over his biceps, a white tee peeking out just below the collar. His hands are stuffed into the pockets of a pair of dark blue trousers that hug his legs in a way that make them look even longer than usual. His curls are held back under a blue beanie, and despite all of the blue he's sporting the green of his eyes seems to overpower everything else.

Those green eyes don’t catch Louis until he’s just 10 feet away, and when they do they have him tripping on solid ground. _Literally_. Louis stumbles, scuffing the toe of his checkered Vans, and curses under his breath as he rights himself.

“Y’alright there?” Harry asks, laughter rumbling beneath his words. His smirk’s on full display, too, and for the first time Louis actually wants to punch it.

Louis takes a deep breath, though, and smiles as he comes to stand across from Harry. “Perfect, Harry, let’s pretend that didn’t happen, yeah?”

Harry’s smirk turns into something softer. “I saw nothing,” he assures him.

“Good,” Louis says and tries to ignore the flutter in his stomach. “You dress up nicely, Curls.”

“Thanks.” Harry lets his eyes sweep from Louis’ head to his toes and back up again. His lips pull back on the left. “You don’t look half bad yourself, Lou.”

Louis chooses not to mention it’s the first time he’s worn a shirt with sleeves since the weather turned warm for the season and instead just smiles a simple thanks. “Reckon we should head inside?”

“Oh, right, yeah, just, erm, wait one second,” Harry stammers and reaches both hands behind his back as he pushes off from the wall. When he brings his hands back in front of him, he’s holding a single red rose. He tips it toward Louis, a smile on his lips that almost looks nervous.

Louis’ thoughts freeze. Actually come to a standstill before he can wonder, “For me?” He hasn’t gotten a flower or gift or _anything_ on a date in so long he forgets it can be something of a tradition for some people.

It must be a tradition for Harry, because he nods with a bitten lip. “I mean, if you like?” His eyes drop to the rose still in his hand. “Unless you think it’s dumb, I mean, shoot, I can just… Leave it out here, or trash it if you really want. Sorry, I just—”

Louis wraps his hand carefully around the stem, his fingers brushing just over Harry’s. He waits until green eyes meet his own to say, “Thank you.” For effect, he bends forward just enough to bring his nose to the petals and inhale. It smells sweet but not overpowering; it’s light and refreshing and leaves his lips curving into an easy smile. “You picked a good one,” he adds.

Harry shrugs, letting his hand fall away from the rose. “I had some help.”

“Oh yeah?” Louis wonders, twirling the rose between his fingers as he pictures Niall helping Harry sniff out a flower stall along the street.

“Yeah,” Harry answers, the look on his face soft. “Lia was pretty eager to help find the perfect one of the bunch.”

And then it comes rushing back—a kid and babysitters and bedtimes and everything else. His date with _just a_ _normal lad_ turns into a date with a _lad who’s a dad_ , and suddenly his knees feel a bit wobbly. But Louis takes a deep breath and tries not to dwell on picturing the little girl he’d seen only two photos of help Harry sample the many roses at a flower stall, responding belatedly, “That’s cute.” He hopes the rush of panic doesn’t show on his face.

Whether his discomfort shows or not, Harry turns and guides Louis inside with a light touch to the small of his back and a gentle, “C’mon. I’m famished.”

Sarafina’s is as busy as any restaurant would be a on a Saturday evening around dinnertime. It’s a casual restaurant, so the atmosphere is relaxed and there are families and couples and parties of friends and it feels a little easier to breathe once they’re in the dining room, even if Louis doesn’t quite know what to do with the rose in his hands. He tries to keep it at his side as he walks, keeping the blossom hanging near his knee, but it feels like everyone’s looking at it no matter how he holds it. He feels like he’s on display.

They’re seated at a booth near the window, and Louis’ thankful there isn’t a chair for Harry to bother pulling out for him because it might just be too overwhelming. It’s all a little overwhelming.

It’s not until they have their drinks (a beer for Louis, just water for Harry) and a basket of breadsticks in between them that Louis finally relaxes against the cushions of the booth.

“Had to take three showers to wash it all out,” Harry’s saying, shaking his head as he recounts the cake massacre from the kid’s birthday party— _Lia’s birthday party_ , Louis reminds himself. “The blue frosting was horrific. Absolutely horrific.”

Louis laughs along with him, imagining Harry with blue and white frosting matted in his curls and sliding into his ear, smeared across his cheek. He doesn’t think he’d mind seeing Harry a little messy, but he shoves the thought away. Instead for now, he muses, “It sure sounds like a dirty job.”

“It was,” Harry agrees, even though there’s still a smile to his lips. “But my sister was able to take the day off and help out, so.” He shrugs a shoulder, his eyes dropping toward his water glass. “Wasn’t all alone.”

There’s a softer note to Harry’s voice, gentler. Different enough that Louis wonders quietly, “Does she help out a lot? Your sister?”

The curly-haired boy doesn’t say anything at first, only nods his head after a second. “I’d probably be lost without Gemma,” Harry admits with a dry laugh. “My mum, too; they helped more than anything the first couple years. I mean Liam and Niall have given more of their time than I could’ve ever asked for, but.” He shrugs again, lifting his eyes to meet Louis’. “It’s not like they had any more experience with babies than I had, you know?”

“Oh, Christ.” Louis laughs, his teeth gleaming as he ducks his head. “I can’t imagine Niall near a baby. That boy can hardly take care of himself. Oh, _oh_ , God.” He pauses and looks to Harry with wide eyes. “He didn’t drop her on her head, did he? Please tell me he didn’t.”

Harry laughs— _giggles_ , _honestly_ —and shakes his head. “Luckily not, least not that he ever ‘fessed up to,” he replies, the softer tone no longer lacing his words. “I think the worst story with Niall is the time he tried to make Lia a diaper out of toilet paper. Creative, but… disastrous.”

“But a makeshift diaper is nowhere near life threatening accidents.”

“Thank God for that,” Harry says. “Pretty sure Lia would love him regardless. Niall’s her favorite uncle, I’ll have you know.”

“Is he? I guess I can see that,” Louis says, seeing Niall’s wide grins and boisterous laughs. He’s carefree and always has a compliment to spare, and Louis doubts the boy has ever said a mean word in his life.

Harry nods like he understands Louis’ direction, adds on softly, “Bit of a kid himself still.”

_You’re still a bit of a kid_ _yourself_ , the thought passes as Louis stares across the table at the younger boy, and it’s true. Harry’s still young, and if his circumstances were different maybe he would make careless choices and stay out too late and drink too much because that’s just what twenty-two year olds do. But the boy across from him isn’t like that— _can’t_ be like that. His circumstances have left him with laughter lines by his eyes, a habit of considering his year older friends as younger, and an obligation to order water instead of a drink on a first date.

They’re silent for a few minutes. The quiet is comforting, though, rather than stiff or awkward or demanding. Conversations and gentle murmurs from the other tables fill in the empty spaces

The air feels different when Louis finally opens his mouth a while later. “So… Lia, right?” He finally tests the name on his tongue for the first time.

“Yeah.” Harry smiles softly, a twinkle in his eye.

Louis hums and repeats the name a little more slowly, “Lia…” He’s read it in countless texts all week, heard Harry say the name aloud, but hearing it and seeing it isn’t the same as saying it. It makes the kid more real; it makes _Lia_ more real, and it surprisingly doesn’t leave Louis’ mind reeling like he’s stumbled into someone else’s dream. Rather, the name feels light on the tip of his tongue. Warm, almost familiar. Saying it feels alarmingly normal. “Is that short for something?”

Harry nods, the smile still spread along his lips. “Camellia. Think we’ve been calling her Lia since she was a day old, though. It’s just… It fits better.”

“And easier to say,” Louis adds, already silently trying out the full name. It’s sweet, but it doesn’t flow as well.

“Yeah, that too,” Harry agrees and bows his head just slightly, his eyes falling toward his folded arms on the edge of the table. Maybe it’s instinctual or maybe it’s just a nervous fidget, but Harry’s fingers trace over the flower tattoo that’s inked along the outside of his left forearm, fingertips following the outline of the large blossom like second nature. He stops tracing it suddenly and bites his lower lip for a moment as though considering. With a tap to the blossom, his eyes flit toward Louis again. “This one’s for her, actually.”

Louis furrows his brow, not understanding the connection. Most parents he’d seen with tattoos for their kids usually showed off artistic masterpieces of their children’s face, or their date of birth and name. He’d even tattooed some guy who insisted the woodland creature he wanted on his bicep truly looked like his kid; he didn’t ask anymore.

Harry just chuckles lightly, stretching out his arm to show off the tattoo a little better. “It’s a camellia,” he explains easily, his eyes focused on the ink. “You know, the flower?”

“You named your kid after a flower?”

Just a hint of pink dusts along Harry’s cheeks. “I mean technically, yeah. But I just liked the name at the time. And it—I don’t know,” he pauses for a moment, then shrugs a shoulder, “it fit.” His eyes flicker back toward Louis, a muted sort of smile to his lips. “You’ll see.”

Louis’ stomach tightens with a bunch of nerves; the thought of meeting Harry’s kid hadn’t really struck him. It seemed like a far off possibility, something that might maybe happen sometime in the future. Meeting the kid would undoubtedly make her real. Something like excitement flutters in Louis’ chest, but he ignores it for now in favor of reaching across the table to pull Harry’s arm just a little closer. He wraps his fingers around Harry’s wrist, twisting to get a better view. It’s a lot more detailed than he remembers, but the lighting’s not as dark and his vision’s not as blurred around the edges. But he remembers noticing how important it was, just from the sheer size of the piece, and now he gets why. His index finger mindlessly tracing the design, he asks curiously, “When did you get it done? After she was born, I’m assuming?”

“Yeah,” Harry answers with a laugh. “Hardly after, but yeah.”

“Hardly?”

“Three weeks old,” Harry continues, a humorous glint in his eye. “My mum came by to watch Lia so I could get some rest, and then she practically kicked me out for the night, called up Niall to drag me out of the house. Next thing I knew I was sitting in the chair at a shop, this flower sketched on my arm. Barely even thought about it first.”

“Ah.” Louis grins. “Impulsive. I like it.”

The smile on Harry’s lips forms into something like a smirk. “Bad habit of yours, too?” He gestures to Louis’ arms that are, more or less, covered with swirls and angles and bursts of ink.

“Maybe a little bit,” Louis says with a quick wink before turning his gaze to his arms. “I mean don’t get me wrong; a lot of these were on a whim, but some are really thought out. Like… Like this one,” he pauses and leans to extend his left arm across the table. In the (artistic) mess of ink scrawled across his skin, he points to a piece that takes up most of his inner forearm. There’s a burst of color hiding in the dark ink, a touch of orange, brown, and red hues that flourish in and around thinly outlined shapes. They’re foxes. There’s a bigger one—a mother fox—surrounded by seven smaller foxes. They’re all different shapes and sizes, unique in their own way, but they’re all curled around the mother fox. The design itself is understated; simple, but the splashes of color stand out, catch the eye, demand to be seen, to be admired. Like a paintbrush to the skin, there are blotches of color beside the main foxes that look like careless paint drips. It looks fresh, like maybe if you ran your finger along it the color would smear.

“Wow…” Harry murmurs, lets his fingers brush across Louis’ skin with a feathery, cautious touch.

“It’s meant to be my family,” Louis offers before Harry can ask. “My mum and the seven of us.” He smiles shortly, then adds softly, “We’ve always called home our little fox den, since it’s always been a tight fit for the lot of us, you know?” He runs his thumb under a caption of sorts printed beneath the huddled foxes. In thin, tightly spaced, capital letters reads: THE FOX DEN

The corners of Harry’s lips trick up, his eyes shining as he takes in the piece. “When’d you get it done?” he asks absently, his fingers still a light weight on Louis’ arm.

“After my first trip home once the last two were born,” he answers, blinks away the mistiness that springs to his eyes because it’s been two years and he’s only managed three visits since. “Seemed like a good time, and I’d already had some sketches for it mocked up since earlier in uni.” He shrugs, but then laughs after a moment. “That, and Zayn was just really getting into watercolor tattoos at the time.”

Harry’s eyes jump upward, eyebrows raised in surprise. “This is Zayn’s work, too?”

Louis nods with a hum. “Wouldn’t trust anyone else with a piece like this, to be honest.” And if Zayn _had_ fucked it up, Louis wouldn’t have had any qualms bitching him out until it was fixed. Or somehow equally repaid.

“Oh, well. It’s something else,” Harry comments, turning his gaze back to Louis’ outstretched arm. He studies it for a minute, green eyes tracing the lines and following the swooshes of color, before tapping at one of the smaller foxes with an index finger. His lips curve with a smile as he guesses, “This one’s you, isn’t it?”

Louis quirks a brow, having to bite back a smile. “How do you reckon?”

“Dunno.” The curly-haired boy shrugs and then glances from the tattoo to Louis’ face and back again three times more. A tilt to his smile, he muses, “Maybe it’s that hint of mischief it’s got in its eyes.”

There’s no real reason to blush (it’s a comment about a bloody tattooed fox, anyhow), but Louis feels his cheeks warming all the same. He’s about to make a snarky remark about how _maybe it’s because it’s the largest of the kids_ when there’s a crash of a dish that pulls him back into the restaurant. Suddenly their surroundings return tenfold, and Louis is hyperaware of the people around them and the waitress walking by and the rose resting beside his hand and the way that he really can’t excuse their touches with one too many drinks.

Most of all, Louis is suddenly hyperaware of everything he’s just shared with Harry, familial sentiments he often doesn’t talk about unless incredibly pressed or smashingly drunk.

But oddly, Louis doesn’t feel vulnerable as Harry runs a finger along the colorful ink once more, doesn’t feel like maybe he’s just opened up too much too soon. His stomach dips when Harry raises his eyes to meet his and smiles brightly, but it’s not in a bad way.

Definitely not in a bad way.

** 

By the time they have dishes in front of them, most of Louis’ nerves have vanished. The conversation is flowing smoothly, even between mouthfuls and the waiter checking up on them. Louis learns more about Harry’s family in the meantime, from his mother, stepdad, and sister to his kid—mostly his kid. It’s funny how easily Harry gets off on tangents about his daughter, gets caught up gushing about something she’s done or said and doesn’t even realize he is until he cuts himself off suddenly and apologizes with a raging blush. It’s cute, though. Cute enough that Louis finds himself biting down a smile as Harry rambles on about Lia’s latest fascination with reading.

“It’s just—it’s wild, right? I mean she’s three—well, four now, I keep forgetting that and that’s just, shit, I can’t believe she’s _four_ ,” Harry cuts off with a breathy laugh, his eyes wide with something like awe. “Anyway, she’s already picking up books and magazines and flipping through them and trying to sound out words. Like big words, too; I heard her whispering through ‘excellent’ the other day—what kind of kid does that? And she’ll try with my books, too, like I had some really massive book next to my bed and I came in one afternoon to see her sat next to my bed with it open on her lap and she’s staring at the page—like _really_ staring at it, concentrating, and it’s just—It just sort of blows my mind, to be honest.”

“That really is something; I can’t remember any of the girls starting to read that early,” Louis comments, a little amused and amazed by Harry’s words. They sit in comfortable silence afterwards, neither of them knowing what to say as Louis admires Harry’s continuous blush. Not knowing how to reassure Harry and wanting to end the quiet that has settled over them, Louis blurts out, “So, I’d really like to meet Lia.” He freezes as soon as the words leave his mouth, unsure of where they came from because he’s certain it was the last thought on his mind. But he peeks up at Harry from where he was staring down at his plate and watches as Harry’s face turns from shocked and surprised to a timid smile, dimples popping out.

“Really?” Harry asks quietly, looking a bit nervous but maintaining eye contact. As Louis watches Harry fidget he realizes he really _did_ mean what he said, somehow. He smiles back just as shyly before confirming, “Yeah, really.”

**

Two hours seem to pass like nothing, filled with blushing smiles and easy conversation. He’d switched to water after his beer, and if he weren’t already sober the cool pinch of a late spring breeze would’ve surely done the trick. His arms break out with goosebumps as soon as they step outside, and he tries to ignore the chill as they walk toward the car park. But Harry shuffles a little closer as they walk, radiating warmth as their arms and hands bump together.

Louis might have sighed and joined their hands, tangled their fingers together in such a clumsy state, if he didn’t have the silly rose dangling from his hand and if they weren’t already standing at the boot of his car. He fleetingly curses himself for not parking farther away.

“Right, well, this is me,” Louis says, motioning uselessly at the red Ford Focus beside them. It’s getting old and some of the paint is chipping, and there’s a nice scrape and dent on the left corner from an unfortunate parallel parking attempt gone wrong. Louis has to bite back an apology for the state of it. Instead, he comments, “It’s seen better days.”

Harry smiles lightly, nodding with a glance over his shoulder. “Mine too,” he laments but doesn’t bother pointing out the exact car farther along the park. Rather he turns back to Louis, smile pinching his lips as he settles, “Anyway.”

“Anyway,” Louis echoes as their eyes meet, blue easily catching green.

“Anyway,” Harry says again, his dimples just starting to pop out with a wider grin. “I, erm… I had a really brilliant time tonight.”

“Oh a _brilliant_ time, really?”

“Yes, really.” There’s a beat, a twitch to Harry’s smile, and then, “Didn’t you?”

Louis purses his lips, caught off guard with the question. But their eyes are still locked and Harry’s grinning at him and it barely feels like much of a question when he nods and answers truthfully, “I’d say it was pretty brilliant, too, actually.”

Harry’s smile momentarily slides into a smirk, tentative and small. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Louis nods again, and his smile widens as he bops Harry’s chest with the rose. “To be fair, my date was sort of the perfect gentleman.”

“That so?” Harry asks, the nerves shedding from his smile and leaving behind something playful. Something flirty. It leaves excitement thrumming low in Louis’ abdomen.

“Mhm,” Louis hums in agreement. “First off he gave me this rose—”

“How _stupid_ ,” Harry cuts in, flicking the rose with a _tsk_ and earning a laugh from Louis even as he continues.

“—kept the conversation going all night—”

“Sounds downright _boring_.”

“—paid the full check even when I _insisted_ he split it—”

“What an absolute _knob_.”

“—held doors for me—”

“Ugh. Chivalry.”

“—walked me to my car—”

“What ever happened to walking your date home?”

“—even kissed me goodnight,” Louis finishes and it’s only then that he realizes how close they’ve drifted, barely steps apart. He can feel the way Harry’s breath catches at his last words, is close enough to see the slight twitch of his smile, the way his pupils blow just a little wider than before.

“Did he, now?” Harry asks, amusement clinging to his words.

Louis lets his smile pull to one side, all the while keeping his eyes on Harry’s. “I did say he was the perfect gentleman.”

“You did, didn’t you?”

“I sorta did, yeah.”

A blush scatters itself along Harry’s cheeks, and his eyes finally leave Louis’ only to settle on his lips. “Well, I hope he didn’t disappoint,” he murmurs gently, just enough of a tremble still coating his words.

Louis’ eyes drop to Harry’s lips, pink and wet and full and so, _so_ close. Close enough that they fall out of focus with the proximity for long, slow seconds until Louis lets his eyes fall shut, just a breath away, leaning just the slightest, _slightest_ bit forward until—

Until the pressure of Harry’s lips settles against Louis’ cheek.

Which, wait.

_What?_

“Sorry,” Harry says before they even pull apart, his breath still warm against Louis’ skin and his voice a low, embarrassed whisper. When Louis blinks open his eyes it’s to see Harry pulling away, his eyes downcast, skin flushed, and a hard set to his brow. “I’m sorry,” he says again and shakes his head, seemingly at himself. “I’m not—I. I’ll text you later, alright?”

“Oh... okay?” Louis replies before he can form any other words, still lost in confusion.

But Harry’s already backing away, looking guilty and sheepish and sorry with a tight set to his lips. He’s halfway across the carpark when he adds on, “Erm, have a good night. Louis.”

Harry turns then, walking away without another look back, and Louis is left beside his beat up car with his heart stuck in his throat and confusion clouding his thoughts. There’s a warm tingle burning his cheek, and he touches it lightly with just the pads of his fingertips, briefly wondering if kisses on the cheek aren’t really as juvenile as he once believed. Because maybe he hasn’t been kissed on the cheek since secondary school, but it doesn’t change the way his stomach’s left twisted in knots.

**

“How was your super dreamy date?” Zayn greets when he enters the flat later that night.

Louis shifts his gaze to the time on the cable box. 10:16 p.m. It’s just after ten on a Saturday night and Louis is back from his date, showered, and lounging on the sofa in a pair of ratty old sweats and a tank top. He tries not to be sour about it because he’s sure Harry has a reasonable explanation for what happened; he’s been assuring himself of such for the past hour. So, in response, he only shrugs and gives his friend a vague hum.

Zayn’s shoulders fall. “Don’t tell me. He chews with his mouth open, doesn’t he?”

Louis snorts. “Don’t think I’d mind that with him, if I’m honest.”

“Oh?” A knowing look settles in Zayn’s eyes. “That’s good news for him, then.”

“Mm,” Louis hums again and doesn’t say anything more as he flips through another three channels. David Tutera teasing brides with expensive jewels just isn’t helping his mood right now.

Zayn falls onto the cushion beside Louis, close enough that their shoulders collide as he settles. “Alright,” he starts with a sigh, “do you want to tell me exactly what he did to ruin things?” He waits a moment for Louis to say anything before wondering, “Did he disrespect your honor? Do I need to go bust some balls? Hunt down this boy’s mum and let her deal with him?”

Louis’ lips trick up with a smile that he tries to hide, shaking his head and pursing his lips. “Nothing like that.”

“Good,” Zayn resolves with a laugh, giving Louis’ knee a light shove. “Then, seriously, what’s up? Does he think Neymar is ugly or something?”

Louis lets the laugh fall from his lips at that and shakes his head again. “No, I mean, I don’t know. Didn’t ask.”

“Okay, then… ?”

Louis squirms just a little because it’s honestly such a stupid thing to get worked up over, isn’t it? A goodnight kiss? God, it doesn’t even matter. Shouldn’t matter. So, “Nothing,” Louis settles, shaking his head as he crosses his arms against his chest. “Really, it doesn’t matter.” 

“ _Fine_ ,” Zayn draws out and pushes himself from the couch. “I’ll just pretend you’re head over heels in fond with the boy instead of moping cryptically on the sofa.”

“Good,” Louis settles. “Thank you.”

Zayn sighs again as he walks away, but he calls back from the other room, “Don’t think I didn’t notice the rose on the table, though!”

**

It’s after midnight, and Louis’ settled to _not_ worrying about it. It’s a dumb thing to be worrying about, anyway, even if it still feels like his world is sort of spinning. He crawls between his sheets with a sigh and closes his eyes, hoping it might help the way everything seems to sway like a ship around him. He knows it’s not, of course, knows the ground isn’t shaking or the walls shifting. But, it doesn’t stop him from taking a deep breath to try and stabilize it.

Everything’s just falling back into place when his phone vibrates. He fishes it out from where it had slid beneath his pillow, trapped in his sheets, and finds a message lighting up the screen from _Curls_.

He’s not expecting much, maybe another apology, but when he swipes in to see the full message it fills his screen like an essay:

**_You don’t have to acknowledge that you’ve gotten this, okay? Like honestly you can delete it after, act like you never even got it if you wish. It’s probably going to be me rambling and you can just brush it off as such if you like. I just need to… Idk, explain myself I guess? I just feel really bad about how I left things earlier and I’m so sorry because I wanted to. Really wanted to. Kiss you, I mean. (this is so weird to write out i’m sorry) but then I psyched myself out??_ **

**_Like, shit, okay -_ **

**_I really like you Lou and I don’t want to mess this up, but I feel like I already have just by having a kid because it makes everything... different. I don’t - I can’t just jump into things you know? I can’t just dive right in head over heels and hope that everything comes out alright on the other side because I’m not alone in this. It’s just how it is. And I’m going to be upfront with you about this okay, I haven’t done this in ages. Proper dating. Don’t think I even acknowledged anything outside of taking care of Lia the first two years of her life, and even after that I never wanted to get into something serious because it just didn’t seem logical to even try. But, fuck I hope I didn’t ruin things earlier with my fumble because I actually want to try with you - if you’re willing to try with me._ **

**_And if you’re not I hope you’ll at least understand a little of what was messing with my head tonight. Alright, I’ll shut up now. Goodnight x._ **

Louis reads through the message a second time and then a third, and he’s not sure if he’s really breathing by the time he clicks over to the phone app and taps the call button next to Harry’s contact name. His hands are shaking.

It rings and rings and rings, and Louis wonders if maybe the message was from hours before and his phone just decided to receive it. Sometimes it does that with long texts. Usually with important ones. It wouldn’t be surprising. Maybe Harry’s asleep, because it’s late and shit, he has a kid and aren’t young parents usually always worn out?

But just before the call can click off to voicemail, the other end picks up with a hesitant, tentative, “Hi…”

“You ramble an awful lot, you know that?” Louis says in lieu of greeting.

He can hear an exhale on the other end, the release of a held breath. Relief. “Bad habit,” Harry replies, and Louis can picture his quiet, muted smile.

“Yeah, I might have to try breaking you of that someday.”

“I’d have to cook you a free meal just for trying.” 

Louis laughs easily, and it’s mirrored on the other end of the call, tired and soft. But there’s a minute that falls between them, uncertain and anxious and Louis hates tense silence like this. He has a bad habit of filling the void with the first thing that comes to mind, and that tendency holds true tonight as he starts, “So…You _really_ like me, huh?”

He’s met with a groan. “I knew I shouldn’t have left that bit in there.”

“Glad you did, though,” Louis assures him quietly.

“Yeah?” Harry’s voice is small, and Louis’ certain it’s not because of the time of night.

So Louis is careful as he picks his words, “Definitely yeah. ‘Cause I think I really like you, too, Curls.”

A sudden intake of air on the other end is just slightly audible, and Louis likes to think that maybe those dimples are making an appearance just because of him. He kind of wishes he could see the other boy right now. But when Harry replies, “Okay,” he can hear the smile in his voice, and that's somehow just as satisfying.

“Okay,” he echoes and there’s a silence that stretches on for what feels like minutes, but Louis doesn’t feel the need to fill it just yet. He lets it continue on, lets his mind drift in the quiet, drift back to the text and almost-kiss and their night together and the way that his heart already seems to grow three sizes whenever he thinks of Harry and having him around.

He thinks about how four weeks ago Harry wasn’t even a figure in his life and how now late-night calls with him have almost become a daily thing. He thinks about how his hands are sweating and his mind is racing because even though they’ve only managed one proper date, Harry has already declared he wants to try—he wants more of this, of maybe something more, of _them_ , if Louis wants the same. The whole thing sends Louis’ thoughts into overdrive, like nothing he’s ever experienced firsthand. He’s gone from hookups and flings to shabby half-year relationships and affairs with vague terms and blurred lines. It’s never been like this; it’s never been clear cut intentions like some sort of courtship, laid out from the start with all the cards on the table, a kiss just an agreement away. It feels so formal, so foreign, but maybe it’s supposed to feel like this, all unchartered territory. Maybe he shouldn’t try to make sense of the unknown by comparing it with the known. And maybe, he thinks, stepping foot into the unknown isn’t all that bad an idea. “Harry.”

“Hmm?”

“I want to try.”

“ _What_?” Harry sounds simply flabbergasted. “I mean… You do? Honestly?”

“Yes, honestly,” Louis confirms, kind of in awe with how easily and frequently his smiles come whenever Harry’s involved. “I don’t really know how to go about trying, if I’m honest. But, I wanna give it a proper try.”

There’s a hum, low and thoughtful, and then Harry suggests, “How about—you can say no if it’s too much too fast, but maybe you could come for dinner and meet my daughter?”

“Already?” is the first word to fall from Louis’ mouth, because when he’d thought of meeting Harry’s daughter he had only ever imagined it as something much farther down the road. Weeks from now at the earliest, like maybe he’d ease his way into their life little by little until meeting her seemed like the only logical option. But it’s clear that their meeting is a near inevitability.

“She’s my daughter,” Harry says like it’s the best and simplest explanation, a laugh vibrating with his tone. “I spend most hours of the day with her, and she’s usually pinned to my side or looking over my shoulder or needing to be entertained. It’s not exactly the easiest arrangement to try and hide someone or something. That, and I’m not really in the business of keeping people in my life secret from my kid.”

“No secrets, then." Louis hums, allows a beat to pass before wondering, "How would you introduce me to her?”

Harry's answer comes quickly and surely. “As a close friend."

“Just a close friend?”

“That’s all we are right now, isn’t it? We just happen to have started dating.” Louis can _hear_ the amused, probably rueful smile he’s sure the younger boy is sporting as he speaks, dimples and all. “Maybe we talk a lot and share some meals and maybe I really want to kiss you, but.” There’s a pause, probably a shrug. “That doesn’t change the fact that we’re just close friends.”

“Close _dating_ friends,” Louis amends, which earns him a laugh from Harry.

“Right,” he agrees, “but dating or not, we’re still just close friends. For now, anyway.”

“Fine, fine, fine.” Louis sighs. “So technical, Curls. It’s almost like you’ve thought out this whole thing before now.”

There’s a weird huff from the other end, like a muffled, bitten back laugh. “Maybe I have,” Harry admits, and it sends a tidal wave through Louis’ stomach. “You haven’t said no.”

“I know.”

“Does that mean…”

“I’ll meet her?” Louis finishes, his heart racing with the words. _Jesus_ , he’s nervous about meeting some four-year-old kid. When did he turn so soft?

“Yeah,” Harry says, a note of anticipation in his voice. “Will you?”

It’s not like he can say no, so Louis asks, point blank, “When?”

Harry laughs, breathier than all his other laughs, like maybe he’s in some sort of gleeful, mind-blowing shock right now. “When would you like to?”

Louis has never been good with waiting, so maybe he shouldn’t be that surprised when he hears himself wondering, “Tomorrow too soon?”

**

Sunday afternoon finds Louis dragging Zayn to the store for moral support.

“Tell me why I’m doing this again?” Louis wonders, as he surveys the wall of vibrantly colored nail polishes from his squatted position. They’re all small bottles packaged toward young girls, each with a ridiculous color name that Louis has already given up with trying to understand.

“Because you’re losing your mind?” Zayn offers, standing behind him and looking absolutely miserable in the brightly lit aisle.

“No, no—well, yes, maybe,” Louis admits, “but the real reason?”

Zayn sighs, absently banging the shopping basket (which currently holds a couple coloring/activity books and a new box of crayons—a name brand, 64-count box, of course; go big or go home, right?) against the side of his leg. “Because you’re, for some reason," he grumbles, "trying to impress a little four-year-old girl?”

Louis makes a sound of protest. “Not impress, just…”

“Be the cool new friend who greets her with a totally unexpected, kickass, albeit belated, birthday present?”

“Yeah. That one. Daddy’s totally awesome new friend,” Louis says as he pulls a third bottle of polish from the shelf. “What colors do you reckon she likes?”

Zayn sputters out a bemused laugh. “Pink?”

Louis glances at Zayn over his shoulder, his brow furrowed. “Really?”

“Mate,” Zayn starts with a shake of the head, “I. Don’t. Know. I know as much about her as you do—nothing.”

“I know _some_ ,” Louis insists as he turns back toward the nail polishes. “Like… like she’s four, named after a flower, and Harry’s her dad.”

“Groundbreaking, Louis." 

Louis chooses not to comment. Instead, he pushes up from his squat with all three bottles—hot pink, a powdery sky blue, and something called ‘blood orange’—still in his hand. “Variety might be best, yeah? For good measure.” He searches Zayn’s face for some sort of reassurance or guidance or _something_ because who knew shopping for a four-year-old girl could be so daunting? But the other man only gives him a pitying look before shaking his head. 

“This everything, then?” Zayn asks, watching as Louis adds the three nail polishes to the basket.

Louis shakes his head. “Still need a gift bag. Oh, and a card? Do you think?” He doesn’t wait for Zayn to answer before he’s deciding, “Yeah, of course, a card. Duh. Kids cards are the coolest cards anyway." 

Zayn laughs as they make their way from the beauty section of the store toward the greeting cards and gift wrap, but he doesn’t say anything. There’s just an amused smile on his lips, and despite his silence the smile speaks loudly enough to make Louis grunt. “What?”

“You’re acting like you’ve never done this before.”

“Done _what_?” Louis asks, because he’s certainly never shopped for the child of someone he’s fancied.

“Shopped for a little girl!” Zayn finishes with another laugh, waving between the basket and the wall of kid’s cards. “Are you forgetting you’ve got five little sisters back home? Y’know, that whole litter of girls you’ve been surrounded by your whole life?”

“I know, I know, I know,” Louis whines, unable to hide his pout as he picks up a card with a huge number four on the front. It’s glaringly pink and covered in glitter. He might have considered it for one of his sisters, but it seems too over the top for a little girl he has yet to meet. With a sigh, he puts it back and insists, “This is different.”

Zayn doesn’t disagree, instead picks up a card that’s far less assaulting to the eyes. He flips it open, makes a face, and puts it back without a word. It’s two cards later, some purple ballerina card in his hands, when he says, “All context aside, she’s still just a little girl. You know how they work.”

There’s a glint of encouragement in his friend’s eyes, so Louis bites back his immediate _I know how_ my sisters _work_ response. Because despite how different this all feels, Zayn’s right—if anyone has experience with little girls and birthdays, it’s Louis. He’s thrown his fair share of parties, given gifts ranging from macaroni art to items with fifty pound price tags. Having five younger sisters has its perks.

So Louis nods, tries his best to swallow down the bundle of sickening nerves stuck in his throat, focuses and chooses the first card that jumps out at him. It’s purple and pink and has a whole row of Disney princesses on the front and a page of stickers inside. Maybe it’s generic, but he knows his sisters would’ve been all over it at age four.

He doesn’t dwell on the gift bags, thankful for the limited choices, and grabs a light blue bag and matching tissue paper. Before he can second guess himself, he tosses the items in the basket and levels Zayn with a nod.

“All good?” Zayn asks, a note of disbelief in his voice.

 “I’m trusting she won’t be too critical,” Louis replies, cracking a grin.

“Dunno, mate,” Zayn says while leading the way toward the registers, “four year olds can be brutally honest.”

“But she’s _Harry’s_ kid.”

Zayn pulls a face. “Good point.”

“If I fail, I’m sure she’ll still be perfectly polite about it.”

“Yeah, ‘course, won’t say a mean word to your face,” Zayn agrees as they unload the items for the cashier. “If you fail, she’ll just have her daddy let you down easy.”

The look Louis gives Zayn is enough to leave the cashier in giggles.

**

There are times in life that you expect to feel monumental—times that you expect to transcend into massive, symbolic glorified _moments_. Moments that you’ll remember for ages because of their unmatched importance or defining nature.

For some reason he can’t quite fathom, Louis expects this time in his life—meeting Harry’s kid—to be one of those moments. It feels big. The anticipation leaves him reeling with excitement but also feeling a little ill. And it is sort of a big deal, isn’t it? It feels like a big deal. Like a huge deal. Maybe if he and Harry were on the road to staying just close friends, it wouldn’t feel so significant, so important, like a giant first step.

But for all of Louis’ worrisome thoughts and chalked up nerves, finally spotting a familiar head of curls at the park that Sunday afternoon is far from terrifying. Louis stops his board from a good distance away, kicking it up and staying rooted in place for a full minute. Harry’s thirty, maybe forty yards away, sitting cross-legged on a checkered blanket spread across the grass. He’s grinning, and his eyes are trained on a little girl sitting beside him. _Lia_ , Louis fills in the thought with a quick breath. Her hair is pulled back into a messy, half-up, half-down hairdo, and she’s grinning, too, wide and toothy as she claps her hands against Harry’s in what looks like an attempt at patty-cake. The scene isn’t as jarring as Louis thought it might’ve been.

With a deep breath, Louis tucks his board under his arm and makes a beeline toward them, anchoring his nerves on bright eyes and dimpled cheeks. And maybe Harry can feel it because he glances up before Louis is even halfway to them, his grin somehow widening, and waves. Louis lifts a hand to wave back, nearly walking into a family out for a picnic. He apologizes shortly and sees Harry hiding a laugh. If he blushes, he blames it on his tripping feet.

Once he gets to Harry and Lia without running into anymore obstacles, he smiles and offers a weak, “Hey.”

Harry’s smile twitches. “You know, we should really stop meeting like this,” he teases.

“Ha ha,” Louis replies in mock laughter. “You’re lucky there are kids here. Might have a few choice words for you.”

Harry just laughs, until his gaze falls to his side where Lia is tugging at his sleeve. “Oh, right! Of course,” Harry starts with another laugh. His eyes flick back toward Louis, and he introduces, “Louis, this is Lia. Lia, this is Louis.”

Louis takes the moment to crouch down to Lia’s level and extends his right hand. “Hi, Lia. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Lia looks at him with a weary stare, wide green eyes dropping to his hand before shifting back to her dad. Harry chuckles, placing an encouraging hand on her back. “It’s okay,” he tells her softly. “He’s the one I was telling you we were coming to meet, remember?” His words do little to comfort her, though, as she just grips Harry’s sleeve a little more tightly. Harry lets out another laugh and glances up at Louis, an apology in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, she’s never usually this shy.”

But Louis shakes his head. “It’s alright. Uh, actually,” he pauses and reaches around for his backpack, sliding it to his front and undoing the main zipper. He rummages through it for a second before pulling out the light blue gift bag and presenting it to Lia. He smiles widely, gives the bag a little shake when he catches Lia’s eyes. “I heard you had a birthday recently, yeah? Sorry I’m a little late to the game, but I didn’t want to show up empty-handed.”

A smile pulls at Lia’s lips, but she looks back to Harry before getting the okay to accept the gift. When she takes the bag from Louis, a huge grin breaks out across her face. Within seconds she has all of the bag’s contents spread out on their checkered blanket, tissue paper strewn about between nail polish, coloring books, crayons, and the card. She reaches for the nail polish in a rush, but Harry stops her with a hand to her arm. “Camellia Anne, what do we say?”

Lia looks to Louis sheepishly, the hint of a smile still bright on her lips. “Thank you, Louis!” she exclaims before quickly turning back to her gifts.

Louis laughs and replies, “You’re welcome, love.” While Lia’s busy with her gifts, Louis finally plops down onto the blanket next to Harry with a sigh.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” Harry tells him, voice low.

Louis shrugs. “Kids, gifts. Simple combo.”

“Still,” Harry says, his smile softening as he meets Louis’ eyes. “Thank you.”

“Of course, of course.” He matches Harry’s smile, ignoring the heat that pulls to his cheeks. Looking away he gives Harry’s shoulder a good shove. “Don’t go getting mushy on me now, Curls. I just wanted to win her over.”

“Succeeded there. Anyone who gives her nail polish is an automatic favorite,” Harry says, and Louis definitely does _not_ inwardly cheer for his shopping decisions.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Lia yells, running up to Harry and showing off her nails for inspection. Harry groans as he see her fingers covered in hot pink polish.

“Lia, your nails are not your entire hand, we’ve gone over this,” Harry sighs, reaching for a napkin in the picnic basket to wipe off Lia’s hands.

“I think they look beautiful, love,” Louis pipes up as Harry sends a glare his way.

“Daddy, can I paint your nails?” Lia asks as Harry finishes cleaning up her hands. He looks a bit wary, like he too will end up with hot pink hands.

Harry starts to open his mouth to reply but Louis beats him to it. “You can paint mine, Lia, if you want.”

Harry looks at him gratefully as Lia’s whole face brightens up and she rushes over to grab Louis’s hands. She looks him up and down, her face scrunched up in concentration as she seems to consider her options.

After a minute, she nods her head to herself and concludes, “Blue. It’ll make your eyes look prettyful.”

Louis is not blushing because a four year old gave him a compliment. _He isn’t._

“I agree,” Harry speaks up with ease. Louis is still not blushing. He swears. It’s really hot outside, okay?

Louis doesn’t know how to respond to that so he focuses on where Lia has returned with the blue nail polish and is trying her hardest to keep the paint strictly on his nails.

“You know, Daddy pretends not to like it when I paint his nails, but I know he secretly loves it,” Lia blabbers to Louis as she works.

“Is that so? What’s his favorite color of polish?” Louis asks with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh yes, he loves yellow, looks very pretty on him,” Lia exclaims, accidentally swiping the blue over two of Louis’ knuckles. She ignores it.

“I could see that, a very good color for him indeed,” Louis adds, shooting a blushing Harry a big smile.

Lia finishes up his nails, and various other parts of his hands, a few minutes later. Louis is pretty sure the polish will never dry.

“Looks very beautiful, love, thank you,” Louis tells Lia.

“You’re welcome!” She tells him before grabbing at his arm to stare intently at the tattoos littering his skin. Louis tries to hold in a laugh at how serious she looks and after some time she whips her head up and says, “You have lots more drawings than Daddy does.”

“I do! Your daddy has a lot of catching up to do, doesn’t he?”

“Yes! I told him I could help, but he says my markers aren’t the same,” Lia explains with a pout. She quickly perks up, though, and adds with a toothy smile, “But he promised I could pick a drawing for him one day! Right, Daddy?”

“One day, my little clownfish,” Harry assures with an affectionate pat to Lia’s head, receiving a grin in response. “One day.”

“Clownfish?” Louis questions, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “That’s a new one.”

Harry shrugs and only offers, “She really loves _Finding Nemo_.”

Louis nods. “That’s a good one. Haven’t seen it in a long while, though.”

“Well,” Harry says, “if you’re ever dying to see it, it plays at our house every week. Usually more than once.”

“Harold,” Louis starts with a smirk and faux-shock, “are you asking me back to your place?”

Before Harry can answer, Lia butts in with her own response, nodding her head enthusiastically. “Yes! You should come watch it with me and Daddy.”

Louis meets Harry’s eyes then, lifts a brow in silent question. Harry smiles and shrugs. “You’re more than welcome to, Lou. Anytime.”

“Alright,” Louis settles with an easy smile, looking back to Lia. “It’s a date, babe.”


	3. June pt. 2

Despite trying to meet up earlier, Louis does not find himself at Harry’s apartment until a week later. He’s not sure what he was expecting, walking into an apartment that isn’t a bachelor pad, but it still throws him off when Lia’s presence is noticeable in every inch of the space. From the drawings on the refrigerator to the purple, plastic step stool beside the bathroom sink and the small stash of crayons he digs out from between the couch cushions, Lia is literally everywhere. Including against Louis’ side, wedged between him and Harry on the sofa as _Finding Nemo_ plays on the TV across from them.

And it startles Louis, how easily Lia takes to him; he stiffened the second Lia plopped herself between them, only relaxing when he realized Lia wasn’t going to be moving anytime soon—and when Harry placed a hand at the nape of his neck, fingers toying with his hair, coaxing him to relax against the cushions.

The movie is as cute as he remembers, maybe cuter with Lia quietly echoing her favorite lines beside him. She’s totally engulfed with the film, her eyes wide and bright as she watches the story play out on screen.

_She’s seen it like 600 times_ , Harry had mentioned the day before when Louis asked—nervously, hesitantly, a stupid blush along his neck—if he could come watch it with them.

600 viewings or not, Lia follows along and laughs at every part as though she’s seeing it for the first time. Her attention is fully focused on the TV, completely unaware of the misplaced focus behind her. Which is good, which is better than good, Louis thinks, because what started out as distracted, silly faces has turned into lingering stares and deliberate, tentative touches. It’s so little, all of this tiptoe flirting in the dark, but it’s also so much.

It soon becomes too much when Lia shifts away from Louis and fully onto Harry’s lap, leaving a gap between them that somehow quickly disappears. Somehow he ends up with his leg pressed against Harry’s, knee to hip, and Harry’s arm draped around his shoulders. And he’s hyperaware of every point their bodies are touching—Harry’s foot hooking loosely around his ankle, knees knocking together, fingers tapping electric shocks into his bicep. Focusing on the movie is a lost cause, and any chance of following Marlin on his journey through the ocean is thrown out the window when he turns his head and finds Harry already staring at him.

There’s a lopsided smile pinned to Harry’s lips, and it brightens as their eyes meet, blue falling into green. 

_Hi_ , Harry mouths, silent.

Louis grins in spite of himself, mouths back, _hi_.

It’s ridiculous, really, because they’ve been sitting here an hour already, exchanged pleasantries long before they even settled on the couch and popped in the movie. And a simple “hi” shouldn’t have Louis’ heart _fluttering_ , but it does and for once Louis relishes in the feeling, relishes in the way Harry’s dimples start to deepen, the way his eyes dart down to his lips and back up in one quick, fleeting motion. He relishes in the way it makes his heartbeat quicken, his stomach clench in anticipation.

The anticipation holds through the rest of the movie, through the end credits while they untangle from the sofa and Harry carefully carries a sleeping Lia to her bedroom down the hall. It holds, itching under his skin, as he waits on the couch, minutes ticking by while he flicks mindlessly through the TV channels, volume turned low.

Louis loses track of how many minutes pass before Harry saunters back into the living room, a yawn on his lips. He stifles it into the back of his hand and offers an apology as he rejoins Louis. But he doesn’t just sit down next to Louis, as the older boy was expecting; instead he pulls Louis up from the cushions, tugging him close. Louis stumbles onto his feet and knocks into Harry with an audible _oomph_ , their chests bumping together.

And before Louis can even straighten himself up, before he can even register that one of Harry’s hands is settling on his waist, the other cupping his face, Harry is kissing him. Bold and sudden. Louis lets out a sound of surprise, muffled against Harry’s lips, his eyebrows shooting up but eyes falling shut as he eases into the kiss. The kiss is sweet, gentle even, slow and steady and so much better than Louis had imagined.

By the time they pull apart, Louis has one hand caught in Harry’s curls, the other dragging down Harry’s chest as they rest their foreheads together. Louis lets the moment stretch on, lets it sink in. The apartment is quiet, the TV still faintly sputtering out a late night talk show with the audience cheering lowly, and Louis laughs, breathless and surprised and so _fucking fond_.

“What?” Harry asks, sounding just as breathless and spent _and fuck, it was just one kiss_.

Louis shakes his head and blinks open his eyes, green already staring straight at him. “Just caught me off guard,” he admits.

“Oh.” Harry’s smile flickers but doesn’t fade. “Sorry?”

“Don’t be,” Louis tells him and lets a smirk pull at his lips. “I kinda like impulsive, remember?”

Harry’s lips pull to show his teeth, and he nods. “I remember.”

“Good,” Louis settles and, before Harry can say anything else, brings their lips crashing back together. He breathes Harry in, registers the fresh scent—like clothes clean and warm from the wash—and the slightest hint of cologne, smiling at the idea that Harry dabbed it on only for him, for this, for tonight.

He feels Harry’s lips curve into a smile against his own, and he can’t help but mirror it. “Can’t kiss you if you keep smiling,” Louis mumbles against Harry’s skin.

“Sorry,” Harry replies, sounding anything but.

Louis can still feel the curve of Harry’s lips, so he doesn’t bother going in again. Instead he settles back onto his heels, let his head drop to Harry’s chest, and keeps his smile to himself.

Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ waist and lowers just enough to press a quick kiss to Louis’ forehead. “Thanks for coming over tonight," he says, his voice low but not quite a whisper.

Louis laughs softly, admits, "'Fraid I didn't pay much attention to the movie, though."

Harry laughs, too, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Guess that just means you'll have to join us again sometime."

There's a weight to his words, a nervous undertone, like maybe Harry's trying to give Louis an out. But Louis promptly ignores that hint, his head spinning where it rests against Harry's rising and falling chest. Maybe it should feel like too much too soon right now, wrapped up in Harry and knowing that there's a kid just down the hall, a little girl who will always be there, will always be around them. Maybe it should scare Louis a little, realizing that he's not just starting something with Harry but with HarryandLia, realizing that it'll never be _just_ Harry. But his anticipation doesn't waver, and the butterflies swarming in his stomach and flying into his chest never cease their fluttering.

So Louis agrees with a hum, "Guess so." And it's vague, almost indifferent, but it feels like a promise falling from his lips.

With large hands tightening on his hips, Louis knows Harry heard it like a promise, too.

**

“Louis, it’s a lads day, why are you fidgeting?”

“I’m not _fidgeting_ ,” Louis bites back as he smooths down his shirt. Again. _Fuck_ , he is fidgeting. But Zayn just laughs as Louis turns onto another street, the route plugged into his phone, the streets still too new.

“You’ve already met his friends, like,” Zayn continues on, his voice dropping the way it always does when he’s trying to be serious, honest. He looks over at Louis, reaches across the console to nudge his arm. “What’s there to be nervous about?”

Louis grimaces but keeps his eyes on the road. “Dunno, really, it’s just like,” he trails off into a sigh. “They’ll be there? Watching? What if they think I don’t mesh well?”

“You’ll mesh fine, Lou.”

“What if Lia doesn’t actually like me and she’s confided in her uncles—”

“They’re not actually her uncles—” 

“Pseudo-uncles,” Louis amends, “and now they don’t like me, either?”

“Louis, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Fine,” Louis settles and huffs out another sigh, bundled with nerves. The thing is, he knows he’s being ridiculous. He knows the afternoon will probably go by without any problem, without any red flags. He knows this, but he still can’t shake the worries that have been crawling under his skin the past few days, taking up residence in the back of his mind. Like maybe he’s been making up the way things have been going well so far. Like maybe—

“Stop psyching yourself out about this,” Zayn interrupts Louis’ train of thought, a knowing tone to his words. 

“I’m not.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” Louis says and hopes if he says it enough it’ll actually be true. So he takes a deep breath, lets a beat pass, and shifts the conversation. “What if Lia doesn’t like you?”

Louis can practically feel Zayn’s eyes roll, but he laughs all the same. “Not really my problem, is it?”

“But if she doesn’t like you, Zaynie,” Louis tacks on the nickname for good measure, teeth shining through with a teasing grin, “then why would I ever stick around?”

“Aww, Lou- _ie_ ,” Zayn coos, “you’d leave behind Curly and his kid for me?”

Louis snorts. “Ew, no. I meant I’d have to leave you.”

“That hurts, _Lewis_ ,” Zayn deadpans.

“Just tellin’ it how it is, love,” Louis quips as he pulls the car into an open spot alongside the curb. “Harry has offered me home-cooked meals, Z. What have you got to offer?”

Zayn is pulling a ridiculous pout when Louis turns to look at him, and it’s enough to ease away even his deepest worries. “Aren’t my kickass tats and undying devotion enough for you?”

Louis considers it for a moment but shakes his head. “Not really.”

Zayn’s frown dissolves into a grimace, and he unbuckles with a defeated sigh. “Fine. Leave me to fend for myself. Throw away the life we’ve built together. I claim full custody of Sir Finnigan, though.”

“That’s fair,” Louis agrees, only looking to Zayn again once they’re both out of the car. “Can I have weekly visits, though? Might miss our little fish.”  

“Hm,” Zayn hums as he falls into step beside Louis, stopping outside an apartment complex just down the block. “I’ll think about it.”

“Think about Sir Finnigan’s feelings, Z. Can’t let him think one of his dads has abandoned him. It might ruin him. Send him spiraling into fish depression. Then he’ll have to see a fish therapist and—”

“Louis.”

“Hm?”

“Are you gonna press that buzzer, or we just going to stand on this stoop all day?”

“I’m getting there, I’m getting there, okay. Jesus, always so impatient,” Louis grumbles and jams his thumb on the grey button beside _STYLES_ before he can hesitate any longer.

A handful of seconds pass before a voice speaks over the intercom, staticky and broken and not the slow drawl Louis has grown used to. “Hey! Louis and his friend Zayn?” it asks, laced with enthusiasm and a noticeable Irish lilt. 

Louis laughs as he confirms, “Yeah, yeah, Louis and Zayn here. Can you let us—”

There’s a buzz and the door clicks open before Louis can even finish his sentence. He and Zayn share an amused glance before entering the complex, Louis leading the way to the elevators and all the way up to apartment 427. When the door is pulled open after a couple knocks, they are met with a grinning Niall and a laughing Lia clung to his back.

“‘Bout time!” Niall says in lieu of a proper greeting. “Harry was worried you lot got lost.”

“Not lost,” Zayn tells him, drawing both Niall and Lia’s attention. “Louis’ just really good at taking his time.”

And it’s obvious the second that Lia notices Zayn, her green eyes widening as she takes him in and whispers not-so-quietly to Niall, “ _Who’s that?_ ”

“Oh!” Niall’s smile seems to grow as he shifts Lia on his back, lifting her up a little higher. “This is Zayn. Friend of Louis’. He skates, too,” he adds, but Lia doesn't seem to hear him. Or care. Instead her eyes stay wide on Zayn, damn near glistening as she comments in an awed voice, “He’s _pretty_...”

Niall barks a laugh at that, his cheeks turning a brilliant shade of pink as he stammers out an apology. “O-oh my god, sorry,” he gets out, even though Zayn and Louis are laughing along with him. “I mean, she’s right, you are. Pretty. I mean, but. Shit— _shoot_. I meant shoot. Um,” he pauses, looking horrified with himself for a good three seconds before he recovers, “Four year olds, right?” He laughs again, sounding forced, and finally steps to the side, welcoming them in with a jerk of his head (and burning cheeks). “Anyway! C’mon in, Harry’s in the kitchen with Liam, I think, make yourselves at home.” 

Zayn and Louis follow Niall inside and pretend they aren’t listening when Niall turns his head toward Lia and tells her seriously, “Lia, you can’t just say those kinds of things…”

Louis gives Zayn _a look_ , but the darker haired boy only shakes his head, an amused tilt to his lips as they toe out of their shoes by the door. Before they can even turn around they are greeted with a cheerful, “You made it!”

“Course we made it, Curls,” Louis assures him with a laugh, turning to see Harry and Liam entering the living room. A wide grin pulls at Harry’s lips, his cheeks dimpled and eyes already set on Louis’, unwavering. It’s unnerving the way Harry _stares_ sometimes, wide-eyed and absolutely enthralled, and it leaves Louis feeling like he’s had the wind knocked right out of him. But he steadies himself with a deep breath and offers Harry a grin of his own. It must serve as some sort of invitation because the next thing he knows he has a face full of curls and two arms wrapped around his back. Louis only hesitates a split second before reciprocating the hug, which he considers a personal victory; recovering around Harry can be quite the challenge.

Harry wraps Zayn in a hug next, even though Zayn stiffens in his arms, and smiles wide as he looks back to the others. “Zayn, you remember Liam, right? And Niall? Wait, you both know Niall, skatepark, duh. Anyway! We’ve a roast in the oven for dinner, but we have some veggie crisps while we wait.” He finishes with a wave toward Liam who shakes a large bowl in his hands before setting it down on the coffee table.

“Veggie crisps,” Louis and Zayn deadpan, in unison.

Harry’s smile only slightly twitches. “I promise they’re good.”

“Load of lies,” Niall peeps up from where he's settled on the floor with Lia, Legos spread out all around them. He spares a glance up from what looks like the start of a house, his lips pulled back into a half grin. “No worries, lads, I’ve got a bag of normal crisps on the counter. Dip, too. Help yourselves.”

“You should try some veggie crisps, too, though,” Harry says. “You might be surprised. Better for you, anyway.”

“I’m sure,” Louis says, blankly.

“Right, well.” Harry claps his hands together, eager smile still in place as he glances around. “Do you want anything to drink? Water? Tea? Apple juice? Grape juice? Cranberry juice? We have a lot of juices.”

“I could take a juice. Might need to look over the collection first, though,” Louis says, already taking a step toward the kitchen. “Want anything, Zayn?”

Zayn shrugs distractedly as he walks farther into the living room, his gaze set on the Legos. “‘M fine with water, Lou.”

“Harold, care to show me this expansive juice collection?” Louis asks and pointedly ignores the knowing laughter from the other boys as he drags Harry into the kitchen with him, a hand curled around his elbow.

“It’s really not that extensive of a collection,” Harry says as he stumbles into the kitchen on Louis’ heels. “I mean, I might have some grapefruit juice leftover, too, if you’re interested, but other than that—”

“Not really interested in juice,” Louis interrupts before swallowing the rest of Harry’s words with a kiss. He keeps it short, chaste, knowing that Lia could walk in at any second and it’s too early on to explain that to young, curious eyes.

Chaste as it is, he finds Harry looking at him with a muted smile and sparkling eyes.

“What was that for?” Harry asks, his voice hushed.

Louis shrugs, one hand still wrapped around Harry’s elbow, the other resting on Harry’s waist. “Couldn’t really do it out there, could I?”

Harry looks over his shoulder toward the living room, where Lia giggles shrilly, Niall’s laughter following suit. “Best not,” he agrees, his lips momentarily pulling into a frown. “For now, anyway.”

“Right. For now,” Louis breaks for another short kiss, “we get to be a little secretive. Feel like we’re teenagers sneaking behind our parents’ backs.”

He’s rewarded with the sound of Harry giggling in response before their lips meet again, slower this time, lingering. Louis is just about to part his lips when Harry pulls back with an easy, amused grin. “I should check on dinner,” he says, drawing it out as he steps away, much to Louis’ dismay.

“Tease,” Louis huffs, though it doesn’t come off too harsh with the way his lips are curled into a smile.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Harry gets out around a laugh. “These potatoes aren’t going to peel themselves.”

“You don’t sound very sorry.”

Harry shoots Louis a cheeky grin over his shoulder from his place at the sink, his hands already preoccupied with peeling. He lifts his eyebrows in question, green eyes wide and hopeful, asks, “To be continued?”

And Louis hates the way his stomach downright flutters at the sight, at the prospect of more. They haven’t even properly made out and he’s already wound so tight. He can’t remember the last time he was so anxious just to make out with someone, going mad over the wait just to feel something beyond lips. _Christ_ , Louis thinks, trying to shake off the way the anticipation is thrumming through his veins.

Cursing himself, he closes the two steps between them until he’s close enough to whisper. “You’re killing me, Curls,” he mutters with a pinch to Harry’s bum before escaping the kitchen, Harry’s yelp echoing behind him.

** 

It doesn't take long for Louis to realize that Harry's life revolves almost entirely around Lia—or that Liam and Niall are far from immune to Lia's gravitational pull.

It also does not take long for Louis to realize he's not so immune, either.

By the time dinner is ready, Lia is pulling Louis by his index finger to the kitchen, urging him along to "beat the crowd!" He lifts her up easily and balances her on a hip as they survey the counter full of dishes. It's a real smorgasbord, from the roast and potatoes to peas, broccoli, biscuits, a small dish of goldfish crackers, a bowl of chili, and to finally what looks suspiciously like a side dish of pickles. He learns quickly that Harry tries hard to please everyone, and he refuses to believe that's the reason for the smile on his face.

Once Louis has both a plate for Lia and a plate for himself, he carries them toward the tiny makeshift dining room between the kitchen and living room.

"Will you sit next to me, Louis?" Lia asks quietly, as though Louis might say no.

He schools his features into a concentrated look as he hums and considers the table and its six chairs (two of which are folding chairs Harry had to pull from the closet). "Do you think the others will mind?" he asks in a whisper, leaning in close with wide, serious eyes.

Lia shakes her head, brown curls whipping across Louis' cheek. "No!" she says, bouncing a bit on his hip. "Uncle Niall and Lili get to sit next to me _all_ the time!"

"All the time? Wow, then I guess I won't feel bad about pushing them outta my way, huh?"

Lia shakes her head and springs into a story about how Uncle Niall even let her sit on his lap at dinner the other night, and Louis is too enthralled with her rambling storytelling that he doesn't even notice Harry enter the room and sidle up to his side until he clears his throat. Lia pauses—effectively ends—her story, and they both look to Harry with curious gazes. He's smiling a small, dimpled grin.

"But what if I want Louis to sit next to me? He's my special guest, too," Harry says with an exaggerated pout, bottom lip jutted out. He looks ridiculous, but god if Louis doesn't find it endearing.

Lia's face falls into something similar, and she's silent for a moment as she glances around the table, brows furrowed in thought. But then an idea lights up her every feature, and she nearly falls with how much she squirms against Louis. "Louis can sit between us, Daddy!"

Harry drops his jaw, looking like that is the most genius idea he has ever heard in his life. And he confirms as much aloud. "That is the most genius idea I have _ever_ heard," he ends with a kiss to the crown of Lia's head. She positively beams.

While Harry pops back into the kitchen for drinks (and an extra (" _proper_ ") helping of broccoli because "she's a growing human child, Louis, she needs her greens" because _apparently_ two little heads of broccoli " _aren't enough_ " or whatever. _Ew_.), Louis and Lia settle in at the table.

Lia starts in on another story (4 year olds are bursting at the seams with stories) as Louis takes to cutting up her roast into far more manageable bits. She's going on about her friend Emily from dance—

"You dance?" Louis interrupts; he'd feel bad if Lia weren't so game on following any and every tangent.

She nods her head enthusiastically, practically buzzing in her seat as her eyes stay glued to her plate. "Yes! Daddy got me signed up this year for ballet and I really really like it and some of my school friends are my dance friends too and my teacher Miss Ashley is really nice and I get to wear a tutu." She grins, biting her lower lip like maybe that's the most exciting news in the world. Tutus are a big deal though—Louis learned this the hard way growing up with four younger sisters. 

"That's so awesome," Louis tells her earnestly as he finishes with her plate. "Y'know, my sisters used to dance."

"You have sisters?"

"Mhm," Louis hums, surrendering Lia's utensils. "A whopping 5 of 'em, plus a brother."

Lia's jaw drops. "That is so many a lot of sisters."

Louis lets out a laugh, nodding his head. "They're definitely a lot."

“I don’t have any sisters,” Lia laments, poking at a piece of broccoli with her fork. Her lips fall into a frown, and it’s so exaggerated that Louis has to bite back a laugh.

Instead, he gives her a little nudge with his elbow, says, “Hey, look at it this way, yeah? You get _all_ of Daddy’s love and attention right now. Imagine if you had to share that with _five_ other kids.”

Lia’s eyes widen to the size of half dollars, and she shakes her head. “No. Nope. I do not like that.”

Louis doesn’t hold back his laughter this time. “See? It’s not so bad being an only child.”

“Wish I were an only child sometimes,” Liam grumbles as the others filter into the room, plates filled and drinks in hand.

Lia’s attention snaps to them as Niall laughs. “Please, Liam, you love your sisters, don’t even joke.”

Liam’s face softens, and he goes to say something, but Louis never hears it as a small hand slaps against his forearm. His eyes widen, and he turns just in time to see Lia beckon him closer. He leans close, but Lia pulls him even closer—close enough that his eyes cross just to focus on Lia’s face. Laughing, Louis asks in a whisper, “What’s up, love?”

Lia’s face is the picture of seriousness, along with her voice when she asks, “Can Zayn sit next to me?”

Another laugh bubbles past Louis’ lips. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Lia darts her eyes toward the man in question, currently about to settle in a seat on the other side of the table. He glances toward them, and Lia turns back to Louis with her Serious Look again. 

“I promise he doesn’t bite,” Louis tells her, but Lia shakes her head.

“Can you ask him? Pleeeeease?” Her eyes are wide and she has her hands clasped beneath her chin, her body practically buzzing with impatience.

And for all of Louis’ tough exterior, he is no match for little girls. So in less than three seconds he’s turned, snapping a finger toward his flatmate. “You,” he signals when Zayn looks toward him, dark brows raised, pausing with his plate just inches above the table. “There has been a formal request for you to occupy the place on Lia’s left. We ask that you all kindly readjust,” Louis explains in his best announcer voice.

Harry laughs from Louis’ other side, and the other boys move accordingly—but not without a loud laugh from Niall as he moves to the opposite side of the table with Liam. “Well,” he says, “looks like we’ve officially been replaced, Li. Not too sure how I feel about it, if I’m honest.”

Liam pouts for all of a second before falling into his seat with a shrug. “Reckon she’ll get over them pretty quick. It’s like having a new toy, isn’t it?”

“Are you calling Louis and Zayn _toys_ ?” Harry asks incredulously, a glare already furrowing his brow. “They are _people_ , Liam.”  

Liam balks. “I know, I was just—”

“I am well offended, Liam,” Louis interrupts. “How dare you insinuate that Zayn and I are simple playthings.”

“Yeah, mate, that’s pretty low,” Zayn tacks on.

Liam opens his mouth to backtrack again, his cheeks heating bright pink, but Niall’s cackling around a roll and Lia’s giggling along and Zayn’s biting down a laugh of his own and Harry’s reaching around to grip Liam’s shoulder, telling him with a dimpled grin, “They’re only joking, Liam. 

And yeah, Louis thinks, they’ll mesh just fine.

**

As the evening starts to slow down, Lia blatantly uses their company as an excuse to extend her bed time.

She shows off her basic ballerina moves to the boys as a stalling method, but also because, as Louis learns, she's overly excited about her dance class recital next week.

After attempting the big leap for the finale, Lia scrambles up to Louis and jumps into his lap, Louis letting out an, “Oof!” as he catches her and she unknowingly elbows him in the stomach.

“Lou-weeee, you should come to my recital! Zayn too! Uncle Li-li’s gonna be there. Niall too, right, Daddy?” Lia requests rather loudly, her head whipping to her father sitting beside Louis.

“I would love to, babes, but I’ve got to work that night,” Zayn comments, leaving a pouting Lia staring up longingly at Louis.

“I’m not sure if I have to work, love, but I’ll check my schedule, yeah?” Louis tells Lia, her pout deepening. He feels bad not giving her a definite answer, but he's not really sure whether to say yes or not, and he truly doesn't know if he'll be needed at work.

Harry chooses then to speak up, “Okay, my little monster, it is definitely past your bedtime. Say goodnight to everyone, please.”

Lia gives Harry the biggest puppy eyes he’s ever seen, and that’s saying something when he’s got six younger siblings. Harry just gives her a stern look instead, Louis feeling slightly amused by how Harry looks more like a disgruntled kitten than anything. It seems to do the trick, though, because then Lia begins handing out hugs and goodbyes before Harry leads her off to bed.

The boys all call out a goodbye to Harry as they start to shuffle towards the door. Louis makes to follow them, but Zayn catches his arm. “Mate, I’ll wait in the car for a little. You stay and say goodbye," he says with a wink. Without another word, he's gone, leaving Louis standing in the living room, stunned. 

_Well_ , he thinks to himself, _might as well get in a goodnight kiss, would be a waste of the alone time_.

When Harry pops back out, he looks surprised to see Louis still standing there, but he smiles widely.

“Hey, you didn’t have to stay back,” he says, despite his large smile, obviously pleased that Louis had lingered.

“I wanted to say goodnight,” Louis answers smoothly, purposefully leaving out that Zayn had practically forced him to stay. He's certainly not complaining.

“Such a gentleman,” Harry replies easily, a wide smile still pasted on his face. "I'll walk you out then."

“Now who's the gentleman?” Louis teases while Harry flushes happily. Harry leads them to the door and into the hallway with a gentle hand on Louis’ lower back.

They stand close together but don't quite touch, just enjoying each other’s presence.

“I’m really glad you came tonight,” Harry admits softly.

Louis smiles. “I’m glad I came, too. I had a really great time. Lia is lovely, just like her dad,” Louis says, grabbing for one of Harry’s hands, wanting to have some form of contact.

Another blush fights its way to Harry's cheeks as he says, “You’re really good with her, and she seems quite smitten with Zayn.” Harry giggles and continues, “But I’m sorry she sprung a recital invite on you. You absolutely don’t have to come, it’s just going to be a lot of of twirling and basic ballet moves. Nothing spectacular, I mean they’re all 3-5 years old.” 

“That’s okay, she’s proper excited about it. I do have to see if I’m needed at work, though,” Louis says, tone apologetic. The perks of owning your own business—the hours are strange, flexible, and absolutely unpredictable depending on the day.

“Understandable,” Harry murmurs as he pulls Louis closer to him, pressing his own back against the wall next to the door. Louis stumbles into Harry’s hold, but once he finds his footing he places his hand securely on Harry’s waist while Harry’s hand wraps around his neck.

“Is this my to be continued?” Louis whispers, his lips only an inch away from Harry’s.

Harry just smiles innocently while batting his eyelashes, whispering back, “Maybe,” before he was leaning in and capturing Louis’ lips with his own.

Louis’ eyes flutter shut as he lets himself be overcome with the feeling of Harry’s lips on his. He tightens his hands on Harry’s hips, tugging them closer together as their kiss deepens. Harry lets out a small, pleased sound when their tongues meet, causing Louis to moan lowly. Harry is so unfairly attractive, Louis can't really help himself.

They continue to make out in the hallway outside of Harry’s flat until his elderly, nosy neighbor, Mrs. Schmidt, pops her head out of her apartment.

“Ah, to be young again,” she muses, the two boys startling apart, both a little breathless. Louis reckons they probably look a bit like deer caught in headlights. Mrs. Schmidt just laughs and winks at them, though, explaining herself, “I hate to interrupt, dears, but Harry, do you have an extra egg I could have? My granddaughters are coming to visit tomorrow and I want to bake them some cookies.”

Harry smiles at her kindly. "Sure, absolutely, I bet they’ll love that.” He then turns to Louis and gives him one last peck on the lips. “Goodnight, Lou, drive safe,” he murmurs when they part.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Louis says, squeezing Harry’s hip before he walks down the hallway to the stairs, Harry watching him go.

“He’s a little looker, isn’t he?” Mrs. Schmidt’s voice breaks Harry’s gaze, long after Louis is out of sight. His cheeks burn with a blush, and all he can do is shrug with a smile. “Quite the bum,” she adds with an exaggerated wink.

“ _Martha!_ ”

“It’s just an observation, dear,” his neighbor defends herself, an amused grin spreading across her features, “one I’m sure you’re well aware of.”

Harry shakes his head, admitting defeat; there’s really no point arguing with her, if he’s honest. Instead, he jerks a hand toward his door and changes the topic entirely, “Said you needed another egg, didn’t you, Martha?”

“Alright, honey, I can take a hint,” Mrs. Schmidt says and follows Harry into his apartment. “But he does look like a nice young man, Harry. Not every day I see you with someone...” she trails off, giving Harry’s arm an encouraging squeeze. “It’s a nice change, love. I hope I see more of him around here.”

  
Harry’s chest tightens. “I hope so, too.”


	4. Summer

In the days leading up to Lia’s recital, Louis leaves the verbal invitation unanswered. Lia bugs him about it two more times, but on each occasion he dodges the topic and distracts Lia with something else; Harry doesn’t push it. 

Louis knows he’s free the night of the recital—Zayn made sure he was—but isn’t sure if he should go to the recital or not.

“Just go,” Zayn tells him the morning of the recital while he’s cleaning up the dishes from breakfast.

“But it’s a _kid’s_ recital, Z. Like, kids.”

“Wow.”

“No, I mean, like,” Louis breaks off with a heavy sigh, grunting as he slouches forward over the table. “Kid recitals are meant for parents and family, not like… Not the kid’s parent’s new maybe-boyfriend.”

Zayn snorts. “ _Maybe_ boyfriend, please.”

“Yes, maybe-boyfriend. Shut up. Not the point.”

“Which is?”

“I shouldn’t be there. The recital is not meant for me.”

“Louis, they’re not going to kick you out.”

“No, but it’ll be weird, won’t it? Sitting in an auditorium surrounded by all these parents?” Louis wonders, staring down at his arms on the tabletop. He taps at his tattoo covered arms with a slight frown, tacks on quietly, “Think it’ll be pretty fucking obvious I don’t belong.”

Zayn doesn’t respond; the kitchen faucet keeps running before cutting off to silence, followed by the sound of the chair across from Louis scraping across the floor. Louis looks up in time to see Zayn plopping into the empty spot, a frown tugging at his brow. “We tattoo parents all the time, Louis, you know that’s a shit perspective.”

“But they’ll know.”

“Does it matter?”

Louis considers it and shrugs. “Suppose not, but it’s still… I don’t know. Doesn’t really feel like I should go.”

“Then don’t go.”

Louis nods as though agreeing, but then quickly shakes his head. “But Lia _personally_ invited me. I can’t say no to that, can I?”

Zayn only shrugs.

“I can’t say no to that. So, I should go?”

Louis looks to Zayn again, but Zayn again only shrugs. Always helpful, Zayn.

“You’re right. I should go," Louis settles. "Fuck it, I’m going.”

And this is how Louis finds himself outside of a school auditorium on a Saturday afternoon, dressed in a nice pair of trousers and a button-down shirt, suspenders and all, with a too-big bouquet of light purple flowers cradled in his arms. 23 minutes late. It’s not his worst tardy record (he once showed up two days late to a dental appointment, but he had his excuses), but it’s late enough that the lights are already down (thankfully) and the kids are already on stage. He sneaks in as quietly as possible and takes a seat near the back, carefully setting the bouquet on his lap.

It doesn’t take him long to zero in on Lia on stage. There’s a group of about 15 little kids stumbling around the stage, a classical piece playing behind them. And maybe he’s biased, but he swears Lia’s front and center more than any of the other kids—and she totally nails that plié while at least four other kids trip over their own feet. Louis is maybe more than a little proud and definitely a little (completely) enamored.

When the performances are over, Louis is on his feet with the other parents and family members before he even notices he’s left his seat. And it’s not weird, is the thing. He thought someone would call him out, notice him as some weirdo outsider and make a big show of it, of him, but nothing happens. No one bats an eye toward him, not more than usual anyway.

The auditorium doesn’t exactly clear out; kids come storming from all entrances to find their parents, and Louis is not sure if he’s ever seen so many unnecessary camera flashes in one room ever before.

His eyes are spotted with stray camera flashes by the time he latches onto a familiar head of brown curls up front and center. A show like this, Louis knows Harry would have had to show up extra early to grab such prime real estate and _of fucking course_ Harry would show up an hour early to a ballet recital just for a good seat. Louis is not surprised.

Louis slowly makes his way to where Harry is gushing over Lia, and as soon as he comes into view Lia screeches, “LOUIS! You came!”

Within seconds she untangles herself from Harry’s embrace and rushes over to Louis, wrapping her arms around his legs in a tight hug. She’s practically bouncing as she pulls away, and her eyes widen when she notices the bouquet of flowers still held in Louis’ hand. “Are these for me?” she asks ecstatically, pointing toward the purple flowers.

Louis just nods, handing them to her as she gasps excitedly, “Oh my gosh, thank you!” She takes the flowers in both of her little hands and shoves her face straight into the blossoms, inhaling deeply. “They smell so pretty!”

Louis feels his cheeks heat up, pleased that his spontaneous purchase has made her so happy. He squats down to Lia’s level and scoops her into a hug, telling her, “You danced so well, love! It was amazing.” Lia positively beams in response, and Louis glances up then to find Harry staring at him with a look of wonder on his face. His cheeks definitely do _not_ darken even more.

Harry chooses to speak then, coming close to Louis and keeping his voice low. “Thanks for coming, Lou. You really didn’t have to, but we’re glad you did.”

“Yes, he did!” Lia pipes up. Louis can’t help but laugh.

“It's no big deal. I had the night off and no plans. Besides,” Louis pauses with a shrug, “I like the kid, and recitals are kind of a big thing, yeah?"

Both Harry and Lia look pleased as punch, and after sharing a look, Harry turns to Louis and asks, “We’re gonna go out for celebratory waffles. Do you maybe want to join?”

Lia’s tugging on Louis’ pant leg, begging _pleeeeaaaase._ And really, Louis would be a fool not to agree. So he nods and smooths his lips into a grin. “I’d love to.”

**

“You can’t put that there.”

Louis whips his head up, meeting Lia’s eyes across the top of their vague, ruleless, make-shift checkers-meets-chess game. His fingers are still wrapped around an orange plastic cup, upturned on a black space on the board. Lia’s eyes are dark, so Louis treads carefully as he moves the cup back a space and asks, “Why not?”

“Because you can’t put cups on the black ones.”

“Since when?” Louis asks, a laugh trembling at one corner of his mouth because there’s a pink Disney princess cup on a black space two over, placed there only two moves ago.

“Since…” Lia struggles for an answer, worrying her lower lip for a moment before declaring, “Since the rules say so!”

“Oh?” Louis lets the laugh fall through his lips this time. “I thought the only rule of this game was that there were no rules?”

“There aren’t!”

“Except for the cup rule?”

“Yes! ‘Cept the cup rule!”

“I see,” Louis settles, biting back the rest of his laugh. With a sigh, he turns his attention back to the game—a checkerboard topped with random household items, including cups, dolls, loose change, and crayons—and rests his chin on his hand. He scans the board for half a minute before feigning ignorance. “I think I’m stuck, love. Help me this turn?”

Lia shakes her head with a sigh, as though disappointed in Louis’ inability to follow the nonexistent goals of this game, but giggles as she moves a tiny Rapunzel figurine forward two spaces. “That right there, silly!”

“Oh, good move, Lia,” Harry’s voice comes up behind Louis, making him jump.

Lia beams but corrects him, “No, Daddy, that was _Louis’_ move. I was just helping him.” She pauses to pull Harry closer and whispers not-so-quietly in his ear, “He’s not very good, Daddy.”  

Louis plays up an exaggerated gasp, pressing a hand to his chest in offense. “Excuse me, Lia, I am a pro at this lovely game!”

“Sure…” Lia agrees hesitantly, nodding with a condescending look, “if you say so, Lou-wee...”

“Heyyyy, be nice, Camellia Anne,” Harry warns, voice low.

Lia frowns but nods her head in understanding. “Sorry, Lou.”

“Apology accepted, love,” Louis smiles gently. “Really appreciate your help, though. You’re an expert at this game.”

Lia beckons Louis to her height and when he crouches down, she proceeds to pet his head and murmur, “Thank you.”

“Oh no, thank _you_ for letting me play with you.”

“You’re much better than Uncle Li-Li. He hates this game,” Lia says through a yawn.

“Alright, my little angelfish, time to get you to bed,” Harry says while scooping Lia up into his arms.

She squirms at first, turns in his arms with a whine until she can reach out to Louis. “I want Louis to read me my bedtime story!”

“Maybe that’s something you should ask Louis first?” Harry suggests, turning to Louis with an apprehensive look.

“Lou-wee, will you pretty please read me a bedtime story?” Lia pleads, breaking out those big, green puppy eyes.

“I would be honored, babe,” Louis says with a bow, “lead the way!” As they make the short trip to Lia’s room, Louis listens intently to her rambling about which book she would like to read, but he zones it out as soon as they enter her room. Instead of the typical little girl’s room he was expecting, he’s met with what looks like a shrine to _Finding Nemo—_ the bedding, the stuffed animals, and even the art on the walls. Louis knew she liked the movie, but this is on a whole new level. He opens his mouth to ask Harry about it, but the question is tossed away as Lia drags him farther into the room and to her bed.

Once they get Lia settled in, she decides on a children’s book named _Dragons Love Tacos._ Louis can only guess she picked this one out herself at the store.

Harry settles on the rocking chair in her room, as Louis settles onto the edge of Lia’s bed and reads her the story. His eyes wander partway through the story as he notices Lia start to drift off beside him, and he finds Harry staring at him from across the room. His green eyes are soft in the bedroom light, and he has a small, secretive sort of smile draped along his lips.

When the book is finished, Lia is curled into Louis’ side, a big Nemo plushie cuddled in her arms. Looking at Lia, Louis feels like a teenager again, reading bedtime stories to his younger siblings to help his mum out when she had to work late nights.

Not wanting to disturb Lia by moving, Louis calls out weakly and so very softly to Harry, “Help!”

Harry smirks at the sight before him but comes over and helps Louis carefully untangle himself from Lia, the two of them shifting her gently to the mattress and tucking her in all nice and snug. Louis steps back to let Harry finish saying goodnight to his daughter, lingering by the door as Harry presses a kiss to Lia’s forehead and whispers, “Sweet dreams, little monster.”

Louis is quiet as Harry joins him near the door. “So,” he wonders after a minute, his voice a gentle whisper, “what’s with the Nemo shrine?”

Harry breathes out a tickle of a laugh, sounds like it catches in his throat. He stares at Lia for a moment before letting his eyes flick toward Louis. There’s a watery smile on his face when he explains, “Nemo only has his dad.”

It takes a second or two to sink in, and then Louis whispers in realization, “Just like her.”

Harry nods once, his gaze back on Lia. “Just like her.”

They’re silent for a moment before they close her door and head to the living room. They settle on the couch while Harry turns on the TV, flipping through the channels until he settles on some old _That ‘70s Show_ reruns.

They sit side by side for a few moments until Louis decides that’s ridiculous and burrows into Harry’s side for a cuddle. Harry immediately wraps his arm around Louis and presses a kiss to his temple.

“Thank you for reading to her,” Harry mumbles sleepily.

“No problem, I used to read to my siblings all the time. It’s nice,” Louis says, picking up one of Harry’s hands to play with the rings on his fingers.

“Well, still,” Harry replies, shifting until they’re both reclined against the sofa cushions, Louis tucked in to his side. “I wasn’t expecting you to read that whole book to her. You could’ve handed off the reigns whenever.”

Louis shrugs as well as he can against Harry’s side, letting his eyes fall shut as he adjusts. “Wasn’t a problem, baby.”

Harry only hums in response. The television keeps playing on, and Louis quickly slips into the land of dreams with Harry’s hand rubbing circles into his back, his chest rising and falling beneath his cheek. 

** 

Louis wakes up a to a voice muttering, “Loooouuuuu.” He grunts at the voice, refusing to open his eyes. Eventually, a finger joins the voice, poking him in the side, making him squirm a little.

“No, sleep, yes,” Louis declares, swatting at the body under his.

“No, Lou, babe, wake up,” the voice tries again, this time with a little more urgency. The poking finger is joined by several others.

Louis gives in, just a little. “Why?” he asks, his voice dry and muffled into the chest beneath his face.

“We fell asleep on the couch, Lou, c’mon,” the voice—Harry, Louis realizes as he slowly starts piecing back together reality—continues. “We shouldn’t—we can’t spend the night out here.”

And then reality comes crashing back down, and Louis blinks open his eyes and squints at his surroundings. Harry’s living room. Harry’s apartment. The television still sputtering out old reruns. The clock on the wall reads 2:37 a.m. And, he knows, Lia is asleep down the hall.

“Shit,” Louis mutters and pushes himself up from the sofa, whining at the crick in his neck and ache in his shoulder. He rubs a hand down his face and takes a moment longer to consider the situation before concluding, “Guess I should be heading out.”

Harry is silent for a minute but unmoving, his legs still tangled with Louis’.

“You gonna let me up?” Louis asks when he turns to find Harry smiling up at him, eyes sleepy.

“It’s late.”

“Which is why I should be going.”

“Or… you could stay…?” Harry says, sounding unsure but looking hopeful.

 Louis blinks at him, “Yeah?” His voice still sounds sleepy and rough but he knows this moment is big, important, and his eyes need to stay open.

“Yeah,” Harry says shyly, his signature light blush gracing his cheeks.

“Are you sure? What about Lia?” Louis asks unsurely, not wanting to overstep any boundaries.

Harry nods his head, “I’m sure. We’ll just be really careful in the morning. Tell her you came over early especially for breakfast?”

“Yeah, Okay, yeah,” Louis’ words tumbling out of his mouth from nerves. He’s going to spend the night! Big relationship step, or whatever, cut him some slack. 

They both stumble up off the couch and down the hall towards Harry’s bedroom. If Louis’ eyes weren’t still drooping with slumber, he might take a second to appreciate his surroundings and appreciate the moment since it’s his first proper time in Harry’s room (aside from the obligatory apartment tour).

But Louis can barely keep his eyes open long enough to kiss Harry goodnight as they curl up together underneath the blankets.

**

Louis wakes up at some ungodly hour of the morning to the smell of bacon. Okay, so maybe the sun is already out, but it’s still early. He groans as he rolls over and shoves his face into pillows that smell like Harry’s fruity shampoo. Realistically, he knows he should be getting up and joining Harry in the kitchen but he’s just so comfortable and warm.

Louis allows himself five more minutes before slowly sitting up and stretching. He doesn’t remember removing his shirt last night, but he must have because he finds it on the floor.

As Louis is pulling on his shirt, a small voice startles him, “Lou-wee?” _Crap. Crap, crap, crap_. Louis tries to remain calm as he settles his shirt properly and turns around to face very large and very curious green eyes. _So much for being careful._

Louis takes a deep breath before greeting, “Good morning, love.” He desperately hopes he sounds casual. The key to children is not to act like something is off, otherwise they immediately catch on.

“Lou-wee, why are you in Daddy’s room?” Lia asks, voice slow with sleep.

“Uhm,” Louis hesitates for a total of thirteen seconds, his mind racing with ideas. “Well, it got to be really, really late last night, and I fell asleep on the sofa. Your Daddy was kind enough to move me in here for the night.”

Lia looks at him skeptically before a huge grin covers her face. “Okay!” she says with a shrug and then barrels into Louis to give him a hug.

Louis lets out a huge breath as he hugs her back. He doesn’t think he has ever felt so relieved.

Lia rambles excitedly about a dream she had on their short journey to the kitchen. Louis feels nervous again, wondering how Harry will react.

Upon entering the kitchen, Lia shouts, “Good morning, Daddy!” and runs up to hug the back of his legs where he’s facing the stove. The air smells heavily of bacon and eggs, and Louis’ stomach lets out a loud growl.

Harry turns around to hug his daughter back, but when he looks up and sees Louis he freezes, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head. Louis can definitely tell Harry is freaking out internally, his eyes screaming _did she find you in bed, were you still naked, what happened what happened what happened?_

Louis carefully shakes his head and says through a yawn, “Good morning, Curls.” The look of relief on Harry’s face says it all as he says a quiet good morning back.

They eat breakfast in a comfortable silence for about 20 seconds until Lia launches into the story about her dream, catching her dad up on the details she had already told Louis.

After breakfast, they settle Lia into the living room to watch some telly and color with some blank paper and crayons.

Louis helps dry the dishes that Harry washes and tells Harry what actually happened and that Lia was blissfully unaware.

“That was quite close,” Harry says while blowing out a huge, relieved _phew!_ sound. Louis laughs and quickly kisses Harry on the cheek.

“Yeah, it was, but _phew_ we got lucky,” Louis says, mocking Harry, which causes them both to giggle. As Louis watches Harry, he thinks that he’s gotten quite lucky himself.

**

A hot day in late July finds Harry, Lia, and Louis at the park they first met at. They had just finished off a delicious lunch Harry had packed for them on Harry’s cliche little red and white checkered blanket.

Louis and Harry are teaming up to reapply sunscreen on Lia as she squirms around, eager to be done with the sticky process.

As soon as she’s done she wriggles free and pleads, again, “Lou-wee can I please, please, pleeeaaasse ride on your skateboard?” Lia has been trying to get Louis and her father to agree to let her try the skateboard after Louis had brought it over to the house a few days before.

Louis looks over at Harry who suddenly looks nervous, knows Harry has been trying to avoid the question by way of distraction. “Love, don’t you want to go play on the swings? You love the swings.”

Lia’s eyes light up for a few seconds before she frowns, “Daddy, I don’t want to swing, I want to try the skateboard!” Lia then proceeds to let her eyes widen and her bottom lip wobble.

Harry lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, Lia, but you’re going to be extremely careful and listen to everything Louis says, understood?” Louis has to muffle a laugh. He can never take Harry seriously when he's trying to be, well… serious.

Lia nods very seriously and sits on the skateboard as Louis explains to her how to be safe, and after a trip to the car to retrieve her bike helmet and various body pads she uses when riding a bike, Lia is suited up and ready to give skateboarding a go.

They find a spot of sidewalk that surrounds the perimeter of the park where there is a gentle sloping. Louis makes sure to do a little demonstration and explain what he’s doing as he does it.

Once he makes sure Lia understands and double-checks her safety equipment, he gets her set up on the board, helping her balance. He’s a bit hesitant because this board is his _baby,_ but it’s a small slope and he’s more worried about Lia getting hurt. He really doesn’t want to hurt the child of his maybe-boyfriend. He assumes the reaction to that wouldn’t be too stellar.

“You ready, babe?” Louis asks Lia. She stares up at him with a determined look on her face and nods. She looks in the zone and ready for anything. Louis can feel Harry’s nerves radiating from his position behind Louis, watching them.

Louis lets go of her and she uses her one foot to propel her forward and down the small slope. Louis holds his breath like he knows Harry is doing and soon she’s rolling to a stop and completely in one piece. Louis hears Harry release his breath just after Louis does, and Louis laughs in relief.

“Great job, babe!” Louis yells as he runs over to her and lifts her up to kiss all over her face. She giggles and squeals, “I did it! I did it! Daddy, did you see?”

Harry walks over to them and hugs them both in his arms, kissing Lia’s head. “I sure did, little love, you did great,” he assures her.

Lia continues to do it a couple times more until she decides that sitting on the board and riding it down the slope like a sled is far more entertaining, right up until they head home.

**

Louis sometimes plays football for a small, local team. They travel to some nearby towns and play a match with their small-town football team. Louis has always enjoyed football since he was little and he had been so excited when he found out that the town rec had a small recreational football team.

Today, Louis is warming up on a hot Saturday in August on a neighboring team’s field when he hears his name being called loudly from the bleachers.

He startles and looks towards the stands with one hand shielding his eyes, the sun bright and beating. What he finds makes his smile stretch from ear to ear.

Sitting in the stands is none other than Harry and Lia, who have come to surprise him at his game. Harry is smiling widely and waving at him, while Lia is already jumping up and down, waving small pom-poms in the air as she cheers, “Go, Lou-wee!”

In his determination to make them proud, he plays the best he can and shoots the winning goal while Harry and Lia cheer for him in the crowd. 

Louis thinks this is the best surprise he’s ever gotten. 

**

It feels weird, honestly, getting ready for an actual date. Louis can’t even think of the last time he went on an honest to goodness date. You know, fancy(-ish) dress, slicked back hair, _clean shaven_. The whole shebang. He and Harry have been dating for a while now, which makes it even weirder to be getting ready for a date with his maybe-boyfriend. Yeah. That’s still a thing. See, it’s never seemed appropriate to bring up the whole _are we or aren’t we_ conversation, especially with a four year old girl running around them almost constantly. And the whole label thing isn’t exactly something Louis wanted to have over text. What if it goes totally wrong? That’d _suck_ , man.

So, yeah. He’s getting ready for a date with his, still, maybe-boyfriend.

**_Liam is a godsend tbh_ **

Louis laughs at the text that vibrates his phone against his dresser.

_for real ! what kind of 20something bachelor willingly watches a 4yo monster on a fri ?_

**_the weird ones_ **

_lmao he is quite weird, isn’t he ? I mean not as weird as you, but_

**_heyyyyyyyy_ **

_:P_

**_you’re mean :(_ **

_and you’re distracting me from getting ready do u want me to show up tonight in trackies ? because I will . don’t doubt me_

**_I’m sure you would… See you in 20! :D_ **

Louis leaves his phone on the dresser as he steps back into the bathroom. He’s basically already ready to go, from his hair to his shoes, but… Damn it, his stomach is actually upset with nerves. And his palms are legit fucking sweaty, what the _fuck_.

Groaning at himself for being an _idiot_ , he wipes his palms on the thighs of his trousers, flips out the light, and grabs his things from his dresser before rushing out the door.

Fifteen minutes later, Louis pulls his car into park outside of an apartment building across town that he’s caught himself calling ‘home’ lately. He’s buzzed right up without ever saying anything over the intercom, and the door to Harry’s apartment is unlocked and ajar when he gets upstairs.

“Are we just letting anyone in nowadays?” he asks, rapping his knuckles against the wood as he pushes through the threshold.

“Louis!” He’s warned only with a shriek before Lia comes barreling against his legs at full force, nearly throwing him back against the door. “Daddy told me it was you, so I opened the door so you could come in! But you weren’t here yet but I opened it anyway.”

“Aw, well, thank you, love,” Louis says, crouching just far enough to scoop Lia up into a big hug. He makes a mental note to speak with her later about strangers and the dangers of keeping your front door open. Maybe when she’s 5.

“You’re welcome, Louis!” she says, voice far too loud for how close she is to Louis’ ear, but Louis keeps her close regardless.

“Speaking of your daddy, love, do you know if he’s ready to go?”

“Ummmmmm,” Lia hums and turns and leans back in Louis’ arms to look down the hallway to the bedrooms. “I think sooooo, he was just doing his hair!”

“His hair?” Louis asks, a hint of doubt lacing his words. Usually, especially lately, Harry’s hair looks like he’s finger-combed it, if anything. And it’s getting _long_. Like damn, Harry.

Lia doesn’t notice his doubt and just nods enthusiastically at his question. “Daddy’s been getting ready to go all afternoon! Uncle Li-Li’s been laughing at him.”

“Has he, now?” Louis wonders as he walks them farther into the apartment, following the sound of muted voices down the hall. When they turn into Harry’s room they find Liam lying with his legs off the edge of the bed, his phone held up in the air above his face, and Harry talking at him from the bathroom. That’s right, talking _at_ him. Because Liam is definitely not paying attention as he scrolls through his phone and replies _mhm_ every 15 seconds.

“Knock, knock,” Louis interrupts as Lia smacks her hand against the door.

“Daddy, Lou-wee is here!”

Liam stretches enough against the mattress to look towards them, and Harry pokes his head out of the bathroom doorway. His green eyes fall into Louis’ blue eyes almost immediately, and his lips spread into a wide, toothy smile. “Hey there, stranger.”

“Curls,” Louis greets with a nod and smile. “And Liam. How’s it going?”

Liam smiles warmly and finally sits up, slipping his phone away into his pocket. “Not too bad, Louis.”

“Surprised you didn’t coax Nialler into joining you tonight,” Louis admits. It’s odd to see _just_ Liam, if he’s honest; if Liam’s around, Niall usually is, too. They come as a package deal sorta friends, he’s learned.

“Our favorite blondie is actually busy tonight,” Liam tells Louis, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. _Weird_ , Louis thinks, until Liam tacks on, “With _your_ flatmate.”

Louis furrows his brow. “He’s hanging with Zayn?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Liam says, grinning knowingly. “Hanging out, dinner, movie, y’know, similar to how you and Harry are hanging out tonight.”

Harry smiles goofily, too, and Louis feels like he’s missing out on some sort of joke. But before he can ask anymore, Lia comes crashing back into the conversation in the way only four year olds can.  

“Where are you and Daddy going without me?” Lia demands before they can exchange anymore pleasantries.

Louis smiles and wipes the pout off Lia’s face with a bop to her nose. “We have to go to see this horrible, scary movie, sweetheart.”

“Why isn’t Uncle Li-Li going to see the scary movie with you, too?”

“Because,” Louis explains like the child whisperer he is, “Uncle Liam is the lucky one who gets to stay at home with you. Honestly, I’d much rather chill with you here and watch some good old Nemo and Dory, but your Uncle Liam’s just so good at rock paper scissors and really, it’s unfair. Can’t believe he beat me to stay here with you. I’ve _trained_ at rock paper scissors. Took a whole class on it at school.”

Lia giggles at that. “Lou- _wee_ , they don’t teach that at school!”

“Sure they do!” he insists, indignant. “Rock paper scissors is a wonderful form of sports! Possibly the best sport.”

Lia continues giggling, even as Harry comes over and scoops her straight out of Louis’ arms. “Daddy, tell Louis it’s not!”

“Louis,” Harry starts with a very serious tone, his features schooled to match. “Rock paper scissors is not a sport.”

“You’re silly, Louis!” Lia exclaims, giggling against Harry’s shoulder.

“Well, _fine_ ,” Louis settles, huffing a sigh. “If I’m just to be insulted, I suppose it’s time for us to make our exit. Shall we, Harold?”

“We shall,” Harry agrees and lets Lia down with a long hug. “You’ll be good for your uncle Li-Li, right, darling?”

“Mhm! He promised we could paint tonight.”

Harry’s eyes widen, and he looks to Liam. “Did he, now?”

“Yes!”

Liam’s cheeks darken with guilt. “They’re washable paints,” he defends himself as he follows them out of the bedroom. “I promise your house and all of its furniture will be safe.”

“I like the sound of that promise, Li.”

“Everything will be fine,” Liam assures them, nearly ushering them out the door. “Now go have fun, yeah?”

It feels like his mum seeing him off on a first date, and it’s ridiculous but Louis’ palms are sweating again. Thank god they’re still trying to keep it hush-hush from Lia because there’s no way he’d let Harry hold his hand right now.

“We will,” Harry confirms with a grin.

“Should I have him home by 9, Mum?” Louis teases as they step into the hallway, glancing back at Liam with Lia by his side.

“9:15 at the latest, okay?”

“Deal,” Louis agrees. “See you then.”

“Can’t wait to see what you two paint!” Harry calls before door closes behind them.

A record, maybe, they make it all the way to Louis’ car before he pulls Harry in for a kiss. It’s hard at first, but it softens quickly, all of his tension melting away against Harry’s lips as the kiss deepens. All of those silly nerves, the sweaty palms—it all eases away with the touch of Harry’s hand against the side of his neck. He didn’t really know another person could have this much of an impact on him.

“Don’t most people wait till the end of the date to kiss?” Harry wonders quietly as they break apart.

“Oh, shut it,” Louis laughs and buckles his seatbelt.

**

They’re not really going to see a scary movie. Well, not technically. It’s a romantic comedy that Harry had talked about wanting to see, and Louis had agreed almost immediately to go with him. _That’s_ the scary bit.

It’s a Friday night, but the movie has already been in theaters for a couple weeks so the theater is close to empty. They have prime seats in the middle of a row near the back of the theater. The lights are dimmed, the previews have started, and they have a large drink and bucket of popcorn to share between them, despite just having dinner.

It’s relaxing, just the two of them and one other couple farther up in the theater. A preview for some slow, quiet film is flashing on screen. Maybe it’s the sappy scene playing out on screen or maybe it’s just the right time, but something in Louis finally settles into place. He shifts just enough in his seat so he can lean closer to Harry, close enough for his whisper to be heard.

“So, silly question, maybe,” Louis starts.

Harry’s eyes jump away from the screen, and _god damn_ are they beautiful, even in dim theater lights. “No such thing,” Harry tells him.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Fine, then you can’t laugh at me.”

A smile twitches along Harry’s lips. “Never, Lou.”

Louis holds Harry’s gaze, even as his chest seems to flutter with his words. He can’t get over the way Harry makes him feel sometimes, like his chest is expanding too far or his heart is beating too fast; no matter the case, it’s always a sense of being overwhelmed. Harry overwhelms him in the best way possible, and he can’t take this uncertainty any longer.

“Okay, good,” Louis says and glances down at this hands, joined on the armrest between them. “I just… I get that things are different with Lia in the equation, but, like, we’ve sorta been seeing each other for a while, yeah? So, I mean, are we, like… Are we boyfriends?”

The smile on Harry’s lips has stretched so wide that it looks painful, and some might even call his stare creepy. But Louis is overwhelmed all the same, especially when Harry nods his head and tames his smile. “Aren’t we?” he asks right back.

“I mean I’d love to be,” Louis admits, his words almost drowned out by the change in previews. Neither of them glances toward the screen.

Harry grins again, squeezing Louis’ hand. “Good,” he says, “‘cause I already told my mum you are.”

**

Sometimes it’s easier to have things thrust upon you rather than having the time to worry over every little thing that could go wrong. So maybe, in the future, Louis will be thankful that Harry gave him zero heads up that his sister, Gemma, was staying overnight.

Right now, though, Louis is seriously freaking out. He didn’t even _shower_ this morning and he hasn’t shaved in four days so he’s sporting a hella creeper ‘stache and greasy hair, and he _feels_ like a street rat. And Harry’s sister is here, smiling at him widely across the living room. _Shit_.

“At long last,” Gemma greets him, her arms spread wide, “I meet the great and famous Louis.”

“I don’t think I’d say ‘famous,’” Louis tells her.

“Well, with the way my brother speaks of you…”

“Heyyyyy,” Harry whines from the other room. “I can hear you, y’know!”

“Pretend you can’t!” Gemma shouts back, grinning widely but turning her gaze back to Louis. She does an obvious once-over, her eyes sweeping from the top of his messy bedhead down to the dirty, worn Vans on his feet. “So,” she says, crossing her arms against her chest, “I can see why my brother yammers on and on about how hot you are all the time. Least he wasn’t lying.”

Louis balks at her words. His cheeks are, without a doubt, scorching with a blush. “Thank… you?” he tries.

Gemma shrugs. “And Lia goes on and on and on about all your arm drawings. Think she’s half in love with you herself, if I’m honest. Hazza better watch out.”

Louis shakes his head at that, surprising himself with a laugh. “Nah, it’s my roommate Zayn she’s in love with.”

Gemma’s eyes widen, and she stands up from the couch to cross the room to Louis. “Zayn? _The_ Zayn? God, she’s head over heels for him, it’s so adorable.”

“It is,” Louis agrees. “ _She_ is, really.”

“Yeah?” Gemma asks after a moment, squinting at Louis just a little, guarded. Her voice is significantly softer when she asks, “So you really care about my brother and niece, yeah? You’re not, like… Here for a quickie and then making a run for it?”

“Of course not,” Louis replies almost instantly. He’s never been surer of an answer in his life.

And it must be the right thing to say, because then Gemma’ wrapping him in a hug and pulling him into the kitchen to join Harry and Lia for a grand breakfast—chocolate chip pancakes with bananas, eggs, bacon, and way too much syrup. Maybe Louis would have liked a little more notice before meeting some of Harry’s family, but, really? He can’t imagine it any other way.

**

"Daddy."

"Yes, princess?"

"Will you be princesses with me for Halloween?"

Harry squawks out a laugh over the breakfast table, loud enough that Louis jerks in his seat at the noise. His face is bunched up with laughter, and a line of milk dribbling down his chin. _Attractive_. "Halloween? Isn't that a bit far away still?"

Lia shrugs against her chair. "Will you?"

Harry doesn't say no, but he studies Lia when he replies with, "We'll see. Why?"

Lia frowns and stays quiet for a moment, swirling her spoon around her mostly empty bowl of cereal. After a huff, she reveals, "Jennifer and her mommy are being princesses. She was saying so to everyone at class yesterday and they have dresses and Mrs. Jennifer's Mom is gonna do her hair super pretty and also make-up too!

"Oh," Harry says softly, biting his lip. He's silent at first, long enough that Louis gives Harry's leg a squeeze beneath the table. "Maybe Auntie Gems will dress up with you?" Harry eventually offers, but Lia pouts even more.

"I don't want to go with Auntie Gems! Nobody else has to go with their aunt!"

"Hey, hey, hey, okay, love, okay," Louis intercepts before Harry can reply. "We'll see what we can do. Maybe your daddy and I can go as your princes?"

That gets a small smile from Lia, but she's still pouting at her bowl.

"No matter what we can still do you up all pretty, okay?" Louis promises. He has sisters, right, he knows a thing or two about hair and make-up, thank you very much.

"And dress up with me?"

"And dress up with you," Harry agrees.

This time Lia grins and pushes away from the table, clearly satisfied with the answer. "Okay! Thanks, Daddy! Thanks, Lou-wee!”

"Think she'll remember that promise?" Louis asks in a whisper once she's sprinted down the hall to her bedroom.

Harry smiles after her and muses, “I sure hope so.” His smile is stilted, though, not reaching his eyes, barely denting his cheeks. It’s muted, and Louis’ stomach twists uncomfortably.

“This isn’t about dressing up, is it?” Louis wonders softly as he leans in a little closer to Harry. He knows it isn’t.

Harry scrunches up his lips to one side and shakes his head. He keeps his eyes low when he says, words quiet and hesitant, “I never… I’ve been so afraid of her feeling out of place without a mom, and I think she’s finally starting to notice? I mean she’s known, but—”

“Now it’s starting to bother her when she doesn’t have a mom to dress up as a princess with her,” Louis supplies. 

“Yeah, that.”

“But she’s known, like you said,” Louis points out, mindlessly rubbing a hand up and down Harry’s arm. “That’s why she likes Nemo so much, right? It’s not like she’s _just_ taking note of it. Not like she’s blindsided or something. Maybe little things will bother her here and there, and all you can do is compromise…” Louis hesitates before adding, “right?”

Harry looks up, brows raised in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Louis swallows a lump and glances over his shoulder to make sure Lia’s still out of hearing range. “Her mum’s not… Is she in the picture? Or likely to be?” It’s been nearly three months and Louis has never seen or heard about her, but that doesn’t mean she’ll never be around. The idea’s been eating at the back of his mind for weeks. 

A smile twitches along Harry’s lips but he shakes his head. “I’ve told you you don’t have to worry about that, Louis, I don’t like girls—”

“Not why I’m asking,” Louis interrupts, holding up a hand. “I’m just—what happened to her mum?”

Standing up, Harry scrubs a hand over his face and starts clearing the table. “We were young,” he starts, to which Louis thinks _obviously_. “I mean, it’s not like a massively intricate story,” Harry continues after placing the dishes in the sink and turning back around to face Louis. “Pretty simple, really. I was confused, she just wanted to help me try and figure things out, and things didn’t go as planned.” He shrugs, smiling lopsidedly as he lowers his gaze. “She wanted to give Lia up for adoption, thought it’d be the easiest thing to do. Best thing, even, but I couldn’t do that. Didn’t want to. She’s mine, y’know?” He looks back up to Louis, his smile easing out. “Whether I was ready or not, I couldn’t give that up.”

“Has she, like… Does she try to get in touch?” Louis asks––has to, really.

But Harry shakes his head. “I keep her updated about the big things. Send her an occasional pic, but she has her own life now. She’s not… Not part of the picture.”

“Not even a little? Not, like, popping up for an occasional weekend?”

Harry shakes his head. “It’s just me, through and through.”

“Hm. You know,” Louis starts to tell Harry as he joins him near the sink, falling naturally into the space between Harry’s legs. He crawls his hands around to Harry’s back and meet his eyes, smiling gently. “You’re such a good father. Like literally incredible, Curls. Lia is so, _so_ fucking lucky to have you as her dad.”

Harry smiles at that, but it rests insecurely upon his lips. “Yeah, but what if I’m not—” 

“Hush,” Louis cuts him off and presses a kiss to Harry’s lips. “You’re more than enough for her.”

**

Louis knew it was too good to be true when he slept over without Lia catching them and putting them through a series of 20 Questions as to why he was still there, why he was in Daddy’s bed, why he wasn’t wearing all his clothes.

Their luck, of course, catches up to them.

On one of the rare mornings when Louis wakes up in Harry’s bed, he wakes up to feel a small body squirming up the bed in between them, trying to snuggle up in the blankets. It’s Lia, her head getting caught in the bedsheets for a moment before popping out with a whine. Her curls are a static mess, but she’s grinning up at the two of them with her tiny teeth.

Harry stirs beside him, and Louis braces himself for the coming storm. He hadn’t even thought of how they could explain this to Lia. Are four year olds in the 21st century smarter than four year olds in the 20th? Are they more intuitive? Will they just somehow _get it_ and totally understand that two men or two women can love each other just like a man and a woman can? Maybe she’ll just catch on and Louis will never have to formally explain anything. That’d be neato burrito, thanks.

Oh, and he’s definitely only wearing boxer briefs right now. As is Harry. Thank god they weren’t butt naked. But Lia can definitely notice a lack of clothing. She’ll have to wonder why Louis and her daddy are basically naked in the same bed, right? Especially when Louis hardly ever spends the night as it is. God damn it, they have so fucking much to explain, Louis is already exhausted just thinking of it.

But rather than questioning Louis’ presence, Lia simply glances between them with an enthusiastic grin and exclaims, “Sleepovers are fun! Daddy, can we have waffles for breakfast? I _reallyyyyyyyy_ want waffles.”

Louis can feel Harry relax beside him, the pillows sinking under his weight. He breathes out a sigh and nods, meeting Louis’ gaze with a relieved smile. “Sure, sweetie. Waffles sound amazing.”

“Mickey Mouse ones?!” Lia asks, because she can’t get enough of this Mickey Mouse waffle maker that Louis found at a secondhand shop a few weeks before. 

Harry laughs and pulls Lia close for a quick cuddle. “Of course, love.”

Lia cheers, muffled against Harry’s chest, until she squirms just enough to reach out and pull Louis close. Louis hesitates for just a moment, unsure if he’s allowed—it feels too much like he’s encroaching on a family moment—but then he feels a larger hand cupping his shoulder, drawing him into the makeshift hug with Lia snug between them.

It’s an awkward position and there’s far too much blanket caught between all of them, but Louis thinks it’s kind of perfect.


	5. September

September always has a way of sneaking up on you, but for Harry it hits him like a ton of bricks. “She starts in her fucking reception class tomorrow,” Harry mutters as he paces around the bedroom, both hands tugging through his hair while Louis watches, amusedly, from the bed. “It’s primary school. My child is starting primary school. Tomorrow. She’s in school. I am so _old_.”

“You’re not old, babe,” Louis laughs.

“My baby is old,” Harry corrects.

“You’re right. Lia is _so old_.”

“Stop mocking me. I’m having a crisis, I’d appreciate some support." 

“Alright, alright, you’re right,” Louis agrees and laughs as he gets up from the bed, stepping just far enough away to pull Harry back to the mattress with him. “I should be comforting you through this very trying time in your life, I’m sorry I’m being inconsiderate. Here, get comfortable.” 

“I don’t want to make out right now.”

“We can lie on a bed and not make out, Harold. Gosh, get your head out of the gutter, please.”

“It’s so far from the gutter right now,” Harry tells Louis as he obeys and lies back against all of the pillows, letting Louis fit himself around him. “My head is too busy wrapping around the idea of Lia starting school. School, Louis. I’ll blink and we’ll be at her graduation from uni. This is—I can’t—this is happening too _fast_.” His voice nearly cracks, and any trace of laughter vanishes from Louis’ throat in a heartbeat.

“Oh, baby,” Louis says as he curls his arms a little farther around Harry’s frame, pressing a long kiss to his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, yeah? It’s all part of growing up.”

“I don’t want her to grow up,” Harry settles, and the pout that forms along his features is quite possibly the cutest thing he has ever seen. No, wait—it’s definitely the cutest thing he has ever seen.

“Okay,” Louis says, playing along and nodding his head very seriously. “I’ll get some of my pixie dust tonight and get her with it first thing tomorrow. No more growing up. Sorted.”

A smile breaks Harry’s face. “You’re the best, Lou.”

“Anything for you, baby,” Louis whispers against Harry’s skin. His lips curl upward as he adds, “Including the stunting of aging.”

Harry laughs softly and rolls over just enough to draw Louis on top of him, hugging him close. “Seriously. The best.”

“Don’t ever forget it.”

“But,” Harry starts with a tap to Louis’ shoulder, “you really shouldn’t have gotten her that _Finding Nemo_ backpack. That had to have cost so much—”

“Not really—”

“You got it shipped from halfway across the world.”

Louis shrugs. “Still. Worth it. Did you see her face?”

“You’re spoiling her.”

“Meh.”

“She’s going to get such a complex because of you.”

“Worth it.”

“You’re going to turn my child into a monster.”

“A cute, spoiled little monster with a kickass _Finding Nemo_ backpack, though.”

“God, you’re a menace. Why do I keep you around?”

Louis just grins and crashes their lips together in response.

**

“You be good for your teachers, okay?” Harry says very seriously. He’s knelt down on the concrete outside of the school, both of his hands on his daughter’s shoulders as he emphasizes _again_ for Lia to be nice to the other kids and, “Make friends, not waves.”

Lia’s brow scrunches up at Harry’s words, and Louis can’t really blame her. He doubts any child under 10 could understand what Harry means sometimes.

Instead of asking what he means, though, Lia just nods with her toothy grin. “Okay, Daddy, I will! Can we go in now please?” Her eyes jump to follow other parents and kids entering the building, and she’s practically jumping with her anticipation. She’s been talking about nothing but school for the past week; she’s _ready_.

“We probably should,” Louis advises before Harry can say no (again). “We’ve only 5 minutes before they want all of the parents to leave.”

Harry looks wild at that news, and his eyes are shiny with a layer of tears when he glances up at Louis. He looks desperate—desperate for Louis to somehow make this day go away. All Louis can do is give Harry’s shoulder a squeeze before nudging Harry’s foot with his own. “C’mon, old man, time to get up.”

Harry turns away and takes a deep breath, staring at Lia for a moment long enough that Louis begins to worry they’ll be late. But Harry breaks it a second before Louis can, bringing Lia in for a crushing hug. He’s murmuring words upon words into Lia’s curls, soft enough that Louis can’t even pick them up from his spot beside them. It might be a weird sight on any other day, but it’s commonplace enough on the first day of school that no one even spares them a glance. 

They break apart with just two minutes to get Lia inside and settled, and it’s just as they’re about to enter the school when Louis’ stomach flips and he stops Harry with a light touch to the elbow. He turns, his long curls nearly brushing his shoulder, and looks at Louis with confusion and worry and that same desperation. Louis ignores it, just enough to wonder quietly, “Should I… Should I stay out here? Seems more like a parents only thing, I wouldn’t want to—” 

But Harry shakes his head and cuts off Louis before he can even finish thinking of what he wants to say. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lou,” he says, grabbing for Louis’ hand and pulling him along inside and down the hallway. With Lia on one side and Louis on the other, both of their hands wrapped in Harry’s, they walk to the specified room at the end of the hall. Harry squeezes Louis’ hand right before they walk through the door, looking back at him and leaning close enough to whisper, “I need you here.”

There’s that overwhelmed, too full feeling in Louis’ chest again, and he squeezes Harry’s hand in return to say _I’m here, I always will be_.

The next several minutes are a whirlwind of introductions and handshakes and tears (only on Harry’s part, okay, Louis definitely does _not_ quickly blink to rid of any tears, okay, don’t be ridiculous), and then they’re being ushered out of the classroom and away from the door.

Harry’s cheeks are stained with tears, and Louis doesn’t let go of his hand the entire walk back to the car. Not that he really could if he wanted to; Harry’s grip is so tight that Louis worries his hand might bruise.

They sit in silence as Louis starts the car and pulls away from the school, his hand finding Harry’s again seconds later. The radio stays muted, and it’s three minutes after leaving when Harry finally speaks. “You don’t work today, right?”

Louis breathes out a chuckle of a laugh and squeezes Harry’s hand. He had purposely scheduled off today a month before, expecting Harry would need some kind of support; he’s never been happier to have thought of something in advance. “I’m all yours today, love.”

Harry shifts in his seat, keeping his head down but his hand tightly intertwined with Louis’. “Good,” he settles, his voice soft and low. “Think I might need a cuddle when we get home.”

“A cuddle sounds perfect,” Louis agrees. 

** 

They stay cuddled on the sofa for the majority of the day, Harry getting antsy an entire hour before they have to go pick up Lia. Naturally, they’re the first parents to arrive, waiting outside of the school for 45 minutes.

Lia is all big smiles and excited words and a bundle of energy when she comes running to them, and she talks and talks about her day for the rest of the evening. Usually Louis would tire of so much talking, especially as a listener, but he lets Lia talk as long as she needs, never interrupting.

(She’s the hit of her class with her kickass backpack.)

**

Now that Louis staying over has become a regular thing, Louis often stays over and helps Harry get Lia ready in the morning, especially if Harry has work or something to finish for an online class. 

On this day in particular, Harry is running late, like  _ really late,  _ after his phone died in the middle of the night and the alarm never went off and Louis is desperately trying to help as much as he can but mostly feels like he’s getting in the way.

“Lou, can you please help get Lia dressed and do her hair while I finish up breakfast?” Harry calls from the kitchen, voice a little desperate.

“Course, love, anything you need,” Louis calls back, finding his way to Lia’s room to help her get ready for the day.

**

Apparently Lia loved how Louis did her hair so much that the next day she refuses to let Harry even touch her hair. When he goes to grab her hairbrush she shouts, “Daddy, no, only Lou-wee can do my hair!” and runs away, leaving Harry with the hairbrush and ties in his hand.

He sighs and goes to fetch his phone. 

**

Louis accompanies Harry and Lia one day to do a little shopping, because that’s something he does with them now. Louis has to pretend it doesn’t make him a bit giddy; he’s a punk, he doesn’t get giddy. Okay, maybe a little.

Lia drags him throughout the entire store, asking her dad for all sorts of things, pouting adorably when he shoots her down.

Eventually, Harry relents and tells Lia she can pick out _one_ toy.

They make their way down a toy aisle, Lia’s eyes wide as she takes it all in. Louis and Harry share a silly smile over her excitement. Soon enough, Lia finds something, if the huge gasp she lets out is any indication.

“Daddy! I’ve wanted this for aaagggeeess,” Lia stresses as she proudly holds up a box that advertises “Veterinarian Kit” and shows pictures of different medical equipment being used on injured cartoon puppies.

Lia continues to to ramble on about all the cool stuff that it comes with and keeps repeating how much she’s been wanting it.

After a few minutes, Harry interrupts her stress, “Lia, if that’s the one thing you want, then we’ll get that, okay? Is that what you pick as your one thing?”

Lia nods fervently, “Yes!” and clutches the box to her chest the whole way to the check out. Louis watches as she fidgets with excitement while they check out her new toy and their other items.

She’s so thrilled about her new toy that as they’re leaving the shop, Lia between Harry and Louis, she giggles and says, “I love you,” while staring up at Harry.

Louis waits a beat before adding on, looking at Harry, "Yeah, I love you, too." It's just so casual, so matter of fact, so simple that Harry just stares at him. Stares and stares.

Lia doesn't notice anything too abnormal, too big, too monumental, and how could she? She says those words to friends she just makes and to birds and butterflies and puppies on the street. Of course those three words don't sound like something that could make an adult stumble on his feet, could make a grown man's heart skip a beat, could steal his breath and leave him blushing as bright as roses.

But she must notice the silence, the pause Harry allows to stretch on with no reply, because a moment later she's looking up at him and pulling at his sleeve. "Daddy," she urges, "say it back, say it back!"

Harry smiles, then, small and simple and spares a glance at Lia as he nods. "Right," he says, clears his throat shortly as he looks back to Louis, "I—I love you, too, Louis." He holds his gaze, one second, two, three. "Really. A lot, actually. Yeah."

Lia giggles, burying her face into Harry's thigh, and Louis wishes he could do the same. But he smiles, tries to keep it from shining too brightly, and wraps an arm around Harry's waist as he lifts himself just far enough to press a kiss to Harry's cheek. "Ditto, Curls," he adds softly, just to watch the pink turn to red on Harry's cheeks again.

But then he's grabbing Lia under the arms and picking her up, reveling in her screeches and laughs. "How about some ice cream for the little clownfish, yeah?" 

"Yeah!"

"To the shop!"

And that’s that.

**

Louis arrives at Harry’s flat at noon on a Saturday, Harry having invited him over to eat lunch with him and Lia and spend the day. He can smell whatever Harry is cooking as soon as he steps into the flat, gently shutting the door behind him. The radio is on and playing what sounds like the top 40’s, which he knows Lia and Harry love to sing to.

Louis shrugs off his coat, leaving it on a hook by the door and toes off his shoes to sit next to a small pair of Lia’s by the front door.

As he makes his way to the kitchen, he can hear Harry and Lia singing along to the radio, both giggling when they make up words for the parts they don’t know. Louis’ heart clenches in his chest when he sees them dancing around while cooking and just generally being silly.

Soon, Lia catches sight of him and squeals, running up to Louis and grabbing his hands to drag him to where they're dancing. Louis laughs and holds onto their hands while they dance like maniacs, making up the words and the dance moves as they go. Harry soon joins in but, inevitably, causes them to all fall into a heap onto the floor, the whole room filling with the sound of their combined laughter.

No one has even spoken a word except to sing, and Louis feels so lucky to feel so comfortable with this little family.

They spend several minutes detangling themselves and once they’re free, Lia launches herself at Louis and he quickly bends down to catch her in a big hug.

“Happy Lou-wee Day, Lou-wee!” She yells directly in his ear which causes him to flinch.

They pull apart, and Louis shoots Lia a curious look, asking, “Louis Day?”

“Yes! Lou-wee day!” Lia answers, as if that’s all the explanation needed, and he supposes for a four year old, it is.

“What is that, love?” Louis inquires. Lia looks at him like he’s stupid and slowly says, “It’s like Daddy’s Day except for Louis, duh." She completes the statement with an eye-roll.

“Of course, silly me, I almost forgot!” Louis says as he smacks himself on the forehead playfully.

Lia giggles and then the next second her eyes suddenly widen and she runs away, yelling, “I’ll be back!”

Louis stands up from his crouched position and gives Harry a confused look. “Louis Day?” he asks while raising an eyebrow.

“She woke me up a few days ago asking when Louis Day was because she’s been waiting for it ever since Father’s Day,” Harry explains with a shy smile, as if he’s unsure how Louis will react.

“That’s absolutely adorable,” Louis comments; he feels giddy that Lia would be so concerned about not having a special day to celebrate him.

Harry shrugs, going for nonchalant. "Well, she’s pretty adorable... and thoughtful.” Louis can only describe the look on Harry’s face as ‘proud father.’

“No arguments here, mate,” Louis gets out before Lia is bolting back into the room, a large piece of paper clutched in her hand.

“Lou-wee! I made you a card!” She fidgets excitedly as she hands him a giant purple card covered in a rainbow of glitter and watches him read it.

On the front of the giant, home-made card is a bunch of random doodles, things he thinks may resemble some of his tattoos. Many cats have made a feature because that’s what Lia says she can draw best. Glitter rains to the ground as he opens the card. Inside, it says ‘Happy Louis Day, Louis! Love, Lia and Harry’ in messy handwriting that he’s certain Harry helped with. There’s a rainbow made out of glitter on the inside and a whole bunch of heart stickers on pretty much every inch of free space.

Louis is man enough to admit he’s a little emotional.

“Lia, thank you so much, this is a very beautiful card. I love it,” Louis tells her as he bends down to hug her tightly.

“You are very welcome,” Lia says as she smiles widely.

Louis finds out that Louis Day consists of many different things. After a delicious lunch made by his amazing boyfriend, they all wander down to the grassy area in the center of Harry’s complex and kick around a football.

Louis laughs at how clumsy both Lia and Harry are, but he loves that they try hard for him.

After football, he spends some time coloring and crafting with Lia, letting her draw him tons of pictures to fill up his fridge at his flat. Zayn is just going to have to deal with it.

They end the day with dinner while watching Tangled, and then helping put Lia to bed, where he reads her a book.

Louis settles on the couch while Harry goes to the kitchen to grab them each a beer.

He flicks through the channels until he finds some cooking show he knows Harry likes. 

Harry emerges from the kitchen then, handing Louis his opened beer.

They snuggle while sipping at their drinks, and Louis takes the time to think about how amazing the day has been. He has never felt like this in a relationship, and he lets the feeling settle in his bones. He's content, he's happy, and he can't believe how lucky he’s gotten.

Louis turns his face to Harry and watches his boy until Harry turns and gives him a smile, “What’re you thinking about?”

“About how much I love you,” Louis answers, smiling shyly. When did he become such a sap?

“Louuuu you big mush,” Harry teases.

Louis just shrugs and moves them around until he can cuddle Harry obnoxiously in his arms, making a big show of it and threatening a possible tickling until Harry is giggling.

“Okay, okay, I love you, too, I surrender,” Harry gets out between chuckles.

“That's much better,” Louis says smugly, shifting them to a more comfortable position.

Harry nuzzles into his neck and asks, “Did you have a good day?”

“Is that even a question? I'm honored she even wanted to have a Louis Day, and then I got to spend a day with my favorite people. So, yeah, I had a good day,” Louis rambles, pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead.

“I'm glad, but I have an idea that might just be the perfect ending to a perfect day,” Harry says tauntingly.

“Please, Harold, do tell,” Louis says in his best posh voice.

Instead of an answer, Harry straddles him properly and kisses him with all his might.

Louis puts his hands on Harry's hips and thinks that, yeah, snogging on the sofa is a pretty great way to end Louis Day. 

**

Louis thinks he may regret suggesting Lia watch _Monsters Inc._ the other day because it seems she’s acquired a new fear. Of monsters.

Louis can’t count the time she’s made him or Harry check a closet or a cabinet or pretty much anything with a door and storage space, especially right before bedtime.

One night, Louis decides to do something about it. On the way to Harry’s, he stops by the store after work and picks up an empty spray bottle, some sticky letters, and a few stickers of what look like little monsters.

He assembles it in the car, sticking stickers over the pink bottle and using the letter stickers to spell out “Monster Spray.” 

When he arrives at Harry’s, he finds Harry in the kitchen, making sure to slip by Lia who was out in the living room playing with some toys before bedtime. 

He sits the bottle on the table and slides up behind Harry where he’s pouring a glass of milk for Lia to have before bed and wraps his arms around him.

He feels Harry tense up but then relax after Louis murmurs, “Hello, love.”

“Hi, Lou,” Harry says just as quietly.

“Everything alright?” Louis questions, rubbing his hands over Harry’s chest in what he hopes is a soothing manner.

Harry leans into him and says quietly, “It’s still a pain to get her to bed, it’s a bit frustrating, if I’m honest.” Harry sighs, and turns around in Louis’ arms, cuddling up to him.

“I’m sorry, my love, but I think I may have a solution,” Louis says. He disentangles himself from Harry and ignores Harry’s look of confusion in favor of holding up the spray bottle and saying, “Ta-da!”

“What's that?” Harry asks, taking the bottle into his hands to get a better look.

“Monster spray. I found it online and threw it together pretty quickly. Just add water and spray the monsters away!" Louis says, sounding like a tacky TV commercial.

Harry just stares at Louis with an awed face, “Lou, that's genius.”

“Thank you, love, but let's see if it works, yeah?” Louis says and quickly fills up the bottle with water, wielding it like a weapon. “Shall we?”

**

The boys coral Lia into drinking her milk, putting on her pajamas, and brushing her teeth. They don't have any problems until after they've read her a book and are tucking her in.

“Daddy, what about the monsters?” Lia asks, looking a little terrified at the thought of Harry and Louis leaving the room.

“Well, love, Louis has got something to help with that,” Harry explains, instead of attempting to tell her that monsters don't even exist, because that clearly hasn't been working.

Lia’s eyes widen, “Louis?”

Louis quickly pulls out the bottle he had been hiding behind his back. “This, my little love, is monster spray. We just spray this in your closet and under the bed, and monsters won't even dare come near this room,” he explains.

Lia’s mouth is hanging open in a little shocked ‘O’ before she wonders, “Really?”

“Really. Do you want me to spray it now?” Louis asks, brushing a piece of Lia’s hair out of her face. 

“Yes please!” Louis exclaims, snuggling into bed to watch Louis.

Louis makes sure to spray the water generously in her closet and under her bed, and even around the doorway, per Lia’s insistence.

Once Lia is satisfied, they both kiss her goodnight and are relieved to see she's asleep within minutes.

"You're a genius," Harry whispers once they step into the hallway. He pulls Louis close with his hands on his waist, drawing him into a relieved, thankful hug. "The child whisperer, for sure." 

Louis laughs at the title and pushes Harry back just far enough to press a quick kiss to Harry's lips. "Anything for Lia," he tells Harry.

And he means it, he really does. 


	6. October

On a surprisingly warm and sunny day in early October, Louis finds himself being dragged outside to the small courtyard behind Harry and Lia’s building. She had been begging him to skate again, and Harry had finally relented and said they could in the complex so he could catch up on some household chores.

Louis had quickly suited her up, got her outside, and actually standing up on the board instead of sitting on it.

“Good balance, babe,” Louis compliments her. Lia preens as Louis helps her get into the correct position to push off the ground and propel herself forward. 

“You ready, love?” Louis checks.

“Aye, aye, captain!” Lia shouts which is then closely followed by a giggle, amused by herself, just like Harry, Louis thinks.

“Okay, give it a go!” Louis encourages, giving her a little space to get herself started. Louis thinks she does well, even if she’s a little wobbly, her tiny legs only carrying her so far. Louis smiles as Lia lets out an excited shriek, happy she’s enjoying herself—that is until she seems to hit something in her path and fall right off the board.

"Shit!" Louis is by her side in an instant, inspecting the knee she hit on her way down.

It’s not too bad, just a scrape, but the blood is beading up on her knee and it’s dirty as Louis crouches down next to her.

Lia is quiet, probably a little shocked, as Louis asks, “Love, are you alright?” Then, abruptly, Lia is sobbing, big fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she wails.

Louis doesn’t even have time to think before he scoops Lia up in his arms while whispering, “Oh, Lia, it’s okay, you’re okay,” and rushes back into the complex and up the stairs to the apartment.

He passes straight past a worried Harry, too caught up in the girl clinging to his neck and sobbing into his shirt.

Once in the bathroom, he sits her down on the counter and whispers soothing words to her as he washes out the wound and puts on a few glittery, pink band-aids he finds in the drawer under the sink—puts on more than really needed, just for good measure.

He just holds her until her tears stop and her breathing’s normal, and he’s whispering apologies into her hair the whole time, absolutely petrified.

“I’m so sorry, love, so sorry, should have stayed right by your side,” Louis rambles to her.

Harry almost laughs at Louis’ freak out a while later, once Lia’s drifted off on the couch with her Nemo plushie in her arms.

“It’s okay, Louis, really. Every kid gets bumps and bruises. It’s just a little scratch,” Harry reassures Louis. “There are going to be many more scraped knees and even more tears. It’s just something you have to learn to deal with.”

“I know, I know, just breaks my heart to see her cry. Always used to get upset when my little siblings were upset,” Louis admits with a blush.

Harry coos at him and snuggles into his side. “That’s sweet Lou,” he murmurs into Louis’ neck.

Louis has never blushed so much in his life until he met Harry, but he thinks that’s alright.

**

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

"Since when do we do surprises?" Louis wonders, because honestly their lives have become so routine. Work-Home-Lia-Sleep. Rinse and repeat. There's no room for surprises.

"Since Niall's watching Lia for the night. Well," Harry pauses, scrunching up his face. "Technically, according to Lia they're just having a sleepover." 

"Of course."

"She doesn't need a babysitter, she'll have you know."

"Well of course not," Louis laughs, following Harry through a meadow. It's so dark he can't see anything outside the small circle of light from the torch Harry's shining in front of them. "Sooo, you plan on telling me why you're cryptically dragging me through a slightly damp, overgrown meadow at 11 o'clock on a Wednesday night with a blanket in tow? I really don’t think that blanket’s large enough to wrap my body in for proper disposal. The cops’ll figure you out in a heartbeat, Curls."

"Shut up and give it a minute, yeah?" is all Harry says in reply.

"Fine, fine, fine, _give it a minute_ ," Louis echoes in a put-on low, slow voice. "I'll give it a minute."

Rather than say anything or get after Louis for complaining, Harry just grips his hand a little more tightly and continues tugging him along.

Eventually Harry comes to a stop, so sudden that Louis stumbles into his back with an _oomph!_ “Why are we stopping? Did we get to the surprise?” he asks abruptly, glancing around and expecting for someone to be jumping out with balloons or something. But, all he sees is blackness.

“Yes,” Harry tells him.

Louis blinks at him. “Where?”

Harry simply points upward, and Louis’ jaw literally drops when he follows Harry’s finger. He can see more of the sky than he ever thought possible, and it’s so dark that it looks like the deep ocean littered with twinkling lights above them. It’s so unreal that all Louis can do is breathe out, “Wow…”

“That’s more like it,” Harry says with a laugh, leaving Louis completely alone for a moment to stare up at the endless sky.

A minute later, there’s a soft touch to Louis’ side. He turns to see Harry motioning toward the ground, the torch dimly illuminating a blanket spread across the overgrown grass. _Oh_. “We’re stargazing,” Louis concludes rather dumbly.

But Harry doesn’t laugh—he never does—only moves his hand from Louis’ side to his hand to pull him gently down to the blanket. They lies all the way back, and Louis does the same beside him. An inch of space between them won’t do for such a situation, evidently, and Harry sighs and draws Louis close, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

There’s a cool bite to the air tonight, sharp enough that goosebumps rise across Louis’ bare forearms. He settles against Harry’s side, though, nice and close, and revels in his warmth. Harry hooks their ankles together and tightens his arm around Louis as they look up at the billions of stars filling the abyss. 

It’s such a view, and there it is again––that overwhelming, too-full, too-big feeling beating around Louis’ chest.

As Louis lies in Harry’s arms staring up the sky that night, he doesn’t think he’s ever been so in love with the stars, a view, a feeling, or a boy ever before. 

**

It’s in the middle of October, when the leaves have started turning from greens to yellows and oranges, when Louis finally cracks. He’s told his mum about Harry, of course he has, he’s just… not told her the full truth.

He hasn’t told her about Lia.

And yeah, okay, _maybe_ it’s sort of a big minor detail to leave out of the conversation for four months, but Louis has had his reasons, okay?

Like, for instance, telling his mum about Lia is scary as fuck. She’s a whole _person_ he’s just failed to mention once in conversation for a quarter of a year. A little, tiny human who takes up way more than a quarter of his thoughts day in and day out. A kid he’s grown ridiculously fond of and sometimes forgets isn’t actually his.

Which is why his hands are a little sweaty and he’s pacing around his apartment kitchen on a Monday morning, his mum rambling in his ear about work drama. He tries to listen, but he must be humming at the wrong parts because -

“Is everything okay, love?”

Louis’ footsteps pause at the sudden change in topic, and he hums in question. “Hm?”

“Is something on your mind, sweet? You seem like you’re lost elsewhere today.”

“Oh.” _This is it, she’s giving you the perfect intro, welcoming the opportunity—_ “No, no, mum, I’m fine, just… Ya know, bit tired.” _Fuck._

“Oh?” His mum laughs over the line. “Is that Harry keeping you out late?”

Louis snorts at the mere idea, his pacing resuming. “Mum, please, some nights I can barely keep him up past 9.”

She laughs again, and Louis’ chest gets that pang it always gets when he realizes how long it’s been since he last saw his mum laugh in person. He misses it –– seeing her face light up, hearing that high laughter ring in his ears. He thinks of Harry causing that horrendous snort his mum has with one of his bad jokes, and his chest tightens even more. Painfully.

"Actually," Louis starts, only noticing once the word is out that he's interrupted his mum - something about Harry being a grandpa. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re alright, dear. Actually what?”

Louis is going to get sick. Fuck, _why did I keep this quiet for so long?_ With a deep breath, Louis stops his pacing, thinks _fuck it_ , and lets loose the pile of words that have been piling up along his tongue daily but never making it out: “Actually there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you about Harry, like a big something. Massive, really. And I know you’re going to flip out about it even though really I wish you wouldn’t, but I know you will and, jesus, fuck, Mum, please don’t be too angry. I’m really sorry I haven’t told you before, I just didn’t know what to say or how to say it or when to say it, and honestly the proper window of opportunity has probably long since passed. But, I’ve never fucking dealt with this before in a relationship, and I didn’t know how you’d react to the news but it’s been great, really. Like, I didn’t know how I’d deal with it either but things have been great. Wonderful, even, like it’s not as scary as I thought it would be. Everything’s come quite naturally, which is odd—well maybe not really since I’ve helped you all these years, but it still feels weird how naturally things have come and—”

“You realize you still haven’t said the actual thing, right, love? Could you maybe get that bit out, it’s a little important and I’m starting to freak out more than a little with your vagueness the longer you keep rambling.”

“Right. Sorry.” Louis bites his lip, hard enough that he winces. He sighs, closes his eyes, and finally, _fucking finally_ , rips off the bandage. “Harry has a kid.”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the phone. Louis’ not even sure if his mum is breathing, if he’s honest.

When his mum speaks, it’s with an unfamiliar and unexpected calmness. “A kid?” she asks, voice a little clipped. “How… How old are we talking when you say ‘kid’?”

Louis can picture the stiff set of his mum’s jaw right now, that calm anger mixed with upset and shock. Now is not the time to beat around the bush. “Four.”

“Four,” she echoes with a laugh that’s brushing upon hysterical. “Okay, four. And Harry’s… Harry’s 22, okay. Okay. Right. And you’re 24.” There’s a pause, and Louis braces himself, feels it coming. It comes quick and harsh, words cold. “How the hell do you think you’re ready enough for this, Louis?" 

_I don’t_. “I didn’t think I was either, Mum, but it’s really not been that difficult––”

“Difficult?! Louis, this is a _child_ we’re talking about, not your maths homework!”

“I know! Mum, I just mean… I thought I wouldn’t know what to do, or that maybe Harry would think I was no good for his daughter or that she’d hate me, but none of those things have happened. She and I get along wickedly, and I… I actually know what I’m doing most of the time? Like I’m not constantly yelling for Harry whenever something goes wrong. I can handle this. I need you to believe me when I say that, Mum. I can handle this. I have been handling this. I _am_ handling this.”

There’s a pause again, and then: “But you’re so young.”

Louis laughs. “Not really, Mum. Do you know how many babies I see clogging up my newsfeed nowadays? I can’t even keep ‘em straight.”

“But kids aren’t easy, Louis.”

“I know.”

“They take work and responsibility. Like, a lot of work. A lifetime of work.”

“I know.”

“That’s a pretty heavy commitment,” she says.

Louis considers Harry and Lia, considers how well things have been going, considers the crazy fantasies he’s had about their future together, considers those fantasies as a lifetime of commitment. Commitment usually scares the living shit straight out of him. But imagining his future with Harry is so far from scary; it’s comforting. He tells his mum such and adds, “Guess it’s a commitment I’m willing to take. Happy to take, really.”

“Well,” his mum settles, taking a moment. He can tell she’s holding back a lecture, but he’s thankful she is. He knows it’s a big deal and knows he has a bad track record with commitments; he doesn’t necessarily need his mom reminding him of it right now, and he’s thankful she isn’t. “Well I’m happy to hear that, love. Really.”

“Thanks, Mum.”

Another pause, and then, “What about the kid’s mum?”

“Not in the picture.”

“Ever?”

“Nope.”

“And her name?”

“Her mum?”

“No, no, the—Harry’s daughter,” his mum corrects, another laugh following her words. This one’s considerably lighter; Louis exhales a tangled knot of nerves. 

“Lia,” Louis breathes out the name that’s become commonplace. “Camellia, actually. Like the flower.”

“Like the flower,” his mum repeats. He can hear the smile in her voice, as small as it is. “Camellia. That’s a beautiful name.”

Louis shrugs to himself, feels a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as they seem to do whenever he gets to talk about Lia with anyone besides Harry. “Well, beautiful name for a beautiful little girl. Looks just like Harry, Mum, brown wavy curls and green eyes and a smile like you wouldn’t believe.”

“She sounds lovely, Louis. You’ll have to send me a photo of her sometime.”

It takes everything for Louis not to pull away and send off a bunch of photos to his mum right then and there. “Will do,” he promises. There’s another moment of silence between them, and then Louis adds on softly, “I can’t wait for you to meet them, Mum. They’re…” _my world_ , he thinks but keeps the words secret, chooses a safety phrase instead, “They mean a whole lot to me.”

“Perhaps you all can plan a visit up to see us?” his mum suggests.

“Sounds like a plan,” Louis agrees.

**

Louis hardly lasts a minute after he ends the phone call before he dumps a whole slew of photos of Lia, Harry and Lia, and Louis with the two of them off into an email to his mother. He receives back an e-mail full of smiley faces and exclamation points.

Later that afternoon, bored during a slow point at the studio, Louis takes to Instagram. It’s not even Thursday and he’s spamming his account with throwback photos, to shopping trips and mornings at the park and even Lia messing around on his skateboard. By the time he goes to bed that night his Instagram and Facebook are absolutely littered with pictures of him, Harry, and a grinning little Lia.

**

“Can we get ten?” Lia asks from her booster seat in the back seat of Louis’ car.

“Ten pumpkins!?” Louis asks.

“Why would we need ten pumpkins, love?” Harry wonders, sharing a worried glance with Louis. With four year olds, most of the pumpkin carving responsibilities fall to the parents still, and carving responsibilities for _ten_ pumpkins? Fuck no, man.

Louis sees Lia shrug against the seat in the rearview mirror. “So we can make ten special carvings?”

“Do you have ten different carvings already planned?” Harry asks, turning to look at his daughter.

She frowns, playing with the fabric of her seat. “No…”

“How about we get a really nice, really big pumpkin instead?” Louis suggests, glancing at the rearview mirror to gauge Lia’s reaction. She perks up at the idea, a smile pulling at her lips. 

“How big?”

“Big enough that only Cinderella’s fairy godmother would approve of, of course,” Louis answers without missing a beat.

Lia’s smile widens even more. “Big enough for a carriage?!”

“Of course––”

“We’ll see,” Harry finishes loudly, drowning out Louis. “Half the fun of pumpkin picking is not knowing what you’re getting until you get there!”

Lia giggles at Harry’s sudden enthusiasm, but insists, “I want the biggest pumpkin they have!”

Steering the conversation away from the largest pumpkin, Louis asks Lia, “What do you think you want to carve on your pumpkin, love? You thinking more traditional, or, like… Something Nemo, maybe? A princess? Ballerina?”

Lia’s eyes widen at the mere possibilities, and she starts to answer Louis only to stutter through her responses and change her mind every seven seconds. “Nemo! No, n-no, wait, Crush! Wait, Crush _and_ Squirt! Or—I want—I like Rapunzel—no, Cinderella! Cinderella _and_ Rapunzel! NO! Rapunzel dancing ballet! With a tutu! And Nemo! No—”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Louis interrupts with a laugh, Lia still stammering through ideas to herself. “I guess we have a lot to think about, huh?”

Lia doesn’t hear him, still talking through the possibilities with herself. Harry stares back at her for a moment before looking to Louis with a line of worry creasing his brow. “I think you’ve broken her.”

**

The pumpkin farm is _packed_ , though that’s probably to be expected on a hella nice sunny day in late October. Lia doesn’t seem to mind, though. She’s skipping off to every section of pumpkins and climbing onto the mounds of pumpkins just like all of the other children, much to Harry’s chagrin.

“Those pumpkins could give way so easily,” Harry observes with a nervous twinge to his words as he stands at the side of one plot of pumpkins next to Louis.

“She’s fine, baby,” Louis assures Harry while he snaps a few more pictures of Lia with his phone. He’s already taken an embarrassing amount of pics, and they’ve only been here for 10 minutes. “Kids climb on these pumpkins every day and the farm is still open, so I don’t think they’ve undergone any major lawsuits due to children’s pumpkin injuries.”

The corner of Harry’s lips twitches with a smile. “I wonder if there’s a section of law dedicated to pumpkin injuries.”

Louis lowers his phone just to turn and stare at Harry through his sunglasses. He lets a long moment pass before settling, “You’re so weird, Curls.”

Harry grins lopsidedly, his dimples on full display. “Yet you love me anyway.”

Pink scatters itself high along Louis’ cheeks, and he turns back to the pile of pumpkins in front of them. His eyes find Lia immediately, and he lets a smile fall into place on his lips when he agrees, “That I do, Curls, that I do.”

He spares a glance back toward Harry, and sure enough he’s sporting a wide, stupid grin with those stupid, lovely dimples. Louis is certain his stupid green eyes are probably stupid glistening behind those stupid sunglasses, too. Ugh. Stupid, pretty Harry.

Harry’s still grinning as he knocks his shoulder against Louis’ before letting a hand fall into place on Louis’ side, arm draped lazily around his lower back. He cups his other hand around his mouth and calls out, “Lia, love, c’mon down and let’s find your perfect pumpkin!”

Lia jerks at her father’s voice and comes climbing down, so ungracefully, from the pumpkin pile, smiling the whole way. “I want the biggest one, Daddy!”

Harry laughs and says, “Alright, let’s see what we can find.”

**

They leave the pumpkin farm that day with a pumpkin so big that even Harry has trouble carrying it to the car. Even then, it’s too big to fit in the boot and they have to buckle it into backseat beside Lia. (Lia keeps patting it the whole drive home.)

Louis and Harry also each get a pumpkin for carving (Lia’s demands), though theirs are much more normal in size (thank god).

They set aside carving time for the following afternoon, and it’s as much as a fiasco as Louis had imagined it would be. The kitchen is a mess of pumpkin guts and seeds, and Harry’s knuckles are red from carving Lia’s massive pumpkin clean of its insides. 

Louis is tasked with sketching out their carving designs (and, of course, helping to actually carve the pumpkins). Harry goes with a traditional jack-o-lantern face, Louis sketches a simple Toothless dragon face for his own small pumpkin and an interesting combination of Nemo and Dory smiling beside a ballerina who’s supposed to be Rapunzel (pumpkin detailing is hard) for Lia’s pumpkin. Yeah, he’ll be doing basically all of Lia’s carving, but he can’t be mad when Lia is so thrilled with the design that she jumps up and down and squeals for a good two minutes. 

** 

“Daddy, look!” Lia shouts from her spot at the kitchen table, Louis settled beside her with some make-up pencils.

“What, darling?” Harry asks, coming around the corner with an old sheet and scissors in his hands.

“Look!” Lia persists until Harry finally looks up from the sheet to his daughter. His eyes widen comically.

“Oh, goodness,” are the first words out of Harry’s mouth.

“Lou-wee gave me arm drawings like you!” Lia explains, hopping off her chair to show her father. There are hearts and a pretty intricate unicorn on her upper arm, as well as flowers and stars and a couple clownfish, too. Tasteful drawings suitable for a four year old.

Tasteful or not, Harry still looks more than a little horrified to see his daughter’s arms covered with artwork. “I can see that,” he says, eying Louis cautiously but smiling as Lia shows off her new ‘ink’. “This is all washable, I assume, right? Tell me I’m right, Louis.”

Louis laughs while capping all of the pencils and tossing them in his bag. “Yes, Curls, it’s all washable. Your daughter will be clean as a fresh piece of paper tomorrow, I promise.”

Lia pouts at that, but Harry breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness,” he says, but then his eyes widen again when he gets a closer look at Lia. “He outlined your eyes, too?” He sounds a little hysterical, but can you blame him? His daughter just started school last month, and now she’s wearing eyeliner. Sometimes things just happen too fast.

“Daddy, I’m a _punk_ ballerina!” Lia reminds him.

“Yes, Curls, and every proper punk wears a bit of eyeliner,” Louis backs her up.

“Of course,” Harry says, quietly. He looks a little bit like he’s losing it, and this is Louis’ cue to make things right.

“Lia, babe, how about you run off and find that tutu you insist I have to wear tonight, yeah?” And, really, Lia doesn’t need any more direction. Off she runs to the bedrooms, humming a song as she goes. Louis takes advantage of the Lia-free moment to cross the room and crowd into Harry’s space. “Hey,” he starts, his voice low but words fast, “remember it’s just a costume, yeah? No reason to start freaking out about Lia growing up too fast. She’s only playing dress up, that’s all, baby.”

Harry’s eyes have been on the floor since Lia left the room, but he finally meets Louis’ gaze, green holding blue for a lengthy moment, searching for reassurance. Comfort. He nods, at last, and tries on a slight smile for size. “Thanks, Lou,” he says, and steals a quick kiss before raising his sheet and scissors. “Guess I should get this costume sorted so we can head out?”

“Best be quick,” Louis agrees, giving Harry’s elbow a squeeze. “Wouldn’t want to keep the punk princess ballerina waiting, would we?”

Teeth finally shine through Harry’s smile. “Of course not.”

Fifteen minutes later, they’re set for an evening of trick-or-treating. Lia is bouncing around the two of them in her tutu, singing little bits of songs she only partially knows—Louis swears he hears her slipping in some classic Green Day lyrics here and there, and he’s more than a little proud. He might cry.

He doesn’t, though, of course. Crying is so not punk.

Pointedly _not_ shoving away proud tears, Louis absolutely owns the pink and purple tutu that Lia begged and _begged_ for him to wear to be a punk ballerina with her. It’s goofy, and he gets more than a few stares while they’re walking through the neighborhood, but whatever. Half of being a punk is not giving a fuck what anyone thinks about you, right? Fuck yeah.

And Harry, well. Harry’s walking around as the ghost emoji, a sheet over his head with uneven eyeholes and a drawn on, stuck-out tongue.

They make quite the bunch, but the grin Lia’s wearing from door to door makes it all worth it. Okay, okay, so maybe part of her grin is down to all of the treats she’s collecting, but _still_. She’s holding both Harry and Louis’ hands as they walk from house to house, and seeing how happy she is with the whole night has a grin stretching across Louis’ lips all night long.


	7. December

December is spent in a whirlwind of Christmas shopping, decorating, and, of course, baking cookies. And as Christmas creeps closer and closer, Lia demands Louis buys matching PJs with Harry and her, because, “Lou-wee! It’s tradition. Duh.” Louis is now the proud owner of hideous pajamas that make him look like an elf, but it’s worth it to see how excited Lia is.

It had taken awhile to come up with a Christmas plan that would please everyone, but the trio finally decided that splitting the holiday into a three-day celebration would be the best way to go about it. Lia was absolutely delighted to have an extended Christmas, anyway, so really it was a win-win no matter what.

They kick off their plans by heading out to Louis’ family to spend Christmas Eve and morning with them, allowing them all to celebrate Louis’ birthday as well.

Louis can tell that Harry is nervous about this meeting, if his sweaty hand he was holding was anything to go by. Louis smoothes his thumb over the back of Harry’s hand, making sure to keep his eyes on the road.

“I know you’re nervous, baby, but they’re going to love you, I promise,” Louis murmurs reassuringly.

“I know, I know, still a bit nerve wracking,” Harry replies, giving him a small smile.

“I understand, love,” Louis says. Truthfully, he’s a bit nervous himself to meet Harry’s parents in two days, but it’s nice to know that Gemma already knows and approves of him.

When they pull up at the house, Louis squeezes Harry’s hand, kisses his cheek, and whispers, “Let’s do this.”

Harry lets out a long breath and nods his head. They part, Harry going to collect Lia, and Louis gathering their bags from the boot.

“Daddy, let’s go!” Louis hears Lia shout. He chuckles as he watches Lia drag Harry right up to the doorstep and knock on the door. Louis laughs even harder when he makes eye contact with a panicked looking Harry.

Louis is just reaching the front porch when the door swings open, and there stands his mum and a gaggle of his siblings, all excited to finally meet his boyfriend. He’s pretty sure Harry’s about to have a heart attack, but Louis watches as he schools his features into something less stressed and offers a wave as Louis introduces them. “Mum, girls, Ernie, this is my boyfriend, Harry and his daughter, Lia.”

Jay immediately grabs Harry into a hug. “Hello, darling! So lovely to finally meet you, come in, come in!”

“It’s great to meet you, too, Mrs. Deakin, I’ve heard so much about everyone,” Harry says as he recovers and hugs back. They make their way inside, closing the door, and facing Louis’ large family.

“Only good things, I hope,” Jay jokes, “and call me Jay, love.”

“I assure you Louis has nothing but high praise,” Harry reassures her, smiling widely. Louis knows that his boyfriend has already charmed the pants off his whole family with only a few sentences.

Harry scoops Lia up into his arms, “Lia, can you say hi to Louis’ mum and his sisters and brother?”

“Hi! My name is Lia and I’m four,” Lia states proudly, smile wide. Louis admires how outgoing she is, knows she’s just as charming as her father.

Louis’ family chuckles as Jay greets Lia, “Hello love, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

“That is very good news Mrs. Louis’ mum,” Lia says with a serious look on her face.

This makes the group laugh even harder as Jay pulls Louis into a hug and murmurs, “Happy birthday, love.”

“Thanks mum,” Louis says as they part. Jay ushers everyone into the living room and retreats back into the kitchen to finish making dinner.

Louis settles on the couch, Lia sitting between Harry and him, and proceeds to introduce his family to Harry and Lia, “Okay, so blondie over there is Lottie,” he says, pointing to the young woman walking back into the room with a glass of water, “over by the TV is Fizzy, the first twins are Phoebe and Daisy, and these little guys,” Louis says while ruffling the hair on each of the youngest twins' heads, “are Ernie and Dori.”

Lia makes it a point to memorize everyone’s names to the best of her ability and smiles wide each time she gets one correct.

Louis fondly watches as Phoebe, Daisy, Ernest, and Doris all fight for Harry and Lia’s attention, so he startles a little when he hears his one of his sisters speaking up. “Good catch, Lou, he’s gorgeous. So is she,” his eldest little sister comments while tilting her head towards Harry and Lia. She had taken up a seat on the floor by Louis, and he hadn’t even noticed.

“I am well aware, thank you,” Louis pretends to scoff while Lottie just rolls her eyes at him.

“But seriously, Lou, you look really happy; it’s nice to see,” Lottie offers with a soft smile.

Louis smiles back, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Thanks, Lotts, I am very, very happy.”

Louis spends the rest of the night with a smile plastered on his face as he watches his two families become one.

**

That evening, they all gather in the living room to watch Louis open his presents, Lia bouncing with excitement because “birthdays are so exciting!”

Louis sits on the floor in front of the couch while everyone sits on the floor around him, except his mother who opted for the comfort of the lounge chair. Lia makes sure to sit right by his side “in case he needs any help.”

His mother and step-dad, Mark, give him a card with a check in it, and from Lottie and Fizzy he receives some new Adidas shirts. Daisy and Phoebe made him some vases out of clay in art class; they’re a little misshapen but he assures the girls that the vases are beautiful and he’ll buy some flowers straight away to put in them once he's home. Ernest and Doris give him a drawing of the whole family in a picture frame, which makes Louis a little teary and he makes sure to hug them extra-long.

Lia is practically vibrating with excitement as she hands over her gift, “Here, Lou-wee!”

Louis chuckles a little at the wrap job, the shape awkward and absolutely covered in tape. He unwraps the bundle and holds up a brand new football.

“Thank you, love, this is great!” Louis leans over and hugs Lia.

“You’re welcome Lou-wee! Daddy helped me pick it out,” she preens, squeezing Louis hard before running off to go and play with Ernie and Dori.

“Last one, Lou,” Harry says quietly as he hands Louis a card. Louis tears it open and reads through the lovey-dovey words, teasing Harry for being a sap.

When Louis opens the card, two slips of paper fall out and onto his lap. He picks them up and gasps, eyes widening as he reads over the two tickets for The Script in his hand.

He looks over at Harry, who’s sat on his other side and tackles him in a hug, both of them laughing as Louis tumbles on top of Harry, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Louis says breathlessly, hugging Harry close.

“You’re welcome, Lou,” Harry says as they sort themselves out again. “Mum already said she could babysit on the day of the concert and until the next day.”

“I can’t wait, this is amazing, thank you,” Louis says quietly, snuggling into Harry’s side.

Harry pecks Louis’ lips and whispers, “I can’t wait either. Happy Birthday, Lou.”

Louis kisses Harry in thanks to a chorus of, “Ewwwwws.”

**

On Christmas morning, Louis wakes up with a mouthful of Harry’s hair and to the excited screaming of Ernie, Dori, and Lia running into the room.

Louis feels Harry stir just as multiple weights jump onto the bed, making both Louis and Harry let out an,“oof,” as the bed shakes.

“Daddy, Lou-wee, wake up! Santa came!” Lia yells as she collapses on top of Harry. Harry lets out a grunt and then traps her in a hug as she squirms to get free, laughing hysterically as he tickles her.

Louis is attacked by his own siblings moments later, and soon it turns into a tickling match between the five.

**

Downstairs soon becomes a whirlwind of presents and wrapping paper, each person taking turns opening a present so it’s fair.

Louis watches his family, happy that they have included Harry and Lia in the gifts. Louis chuckles, remembering how put out Lia had been about having Christmas somewhere else because she was afraid Santa wouldn’t know where to bring her presents, but Harry had assured her that Santa always knew.

Lia acquires many new toys she doesn’t actually need but is absolutely excited about. Louis made sure to buy her some new tutu’s for dance class so that Harry could breathe a little easier amongst all the new toys he’s going to be cleaning up for the next few months.

Louis buys Harry a few books he’s wanted to read, and even though Louis had insisted Harry not get him anything for both his birthday and Christmas, Louis winds up with a new watch from both Harry and Lia.

Soon after all the wrapping paper has been cleaned up, and breakfast has been started, Lia comes up to Louis with a pout, “Louis, I did not get a present from you.”

“Oh love,” Louis says as he picks her up and sits her on his lap where he’s sitting at the dining table. “It’s just back at home! I couldn’t bring it today, but you’ll get it when we’ve gone home,” Louis assures him.

Lia perks up instantly. “Let’s go home right now!”

Louis lets out a startled laugh, “We’re leaving after breakfast, babe, be patient, okay?”

**

As promised, the three of them head back home after breakfast, Lia babbling the entire way about how excited she was for her present from Louis.

Louis drops off Harry and Lia at their flat, Lia pouting when Louis explains that he has to pick up the present from his flat, but he’ll be right back, he promises.

When Louis arrives back at the flat, carrier in hand, Lia flings herself at him the second he's in the door.

“Lou-wee! What is it, what is it?” Lia questions, looking perplexed as she views the bags and carrier in his hands.

Louis strides past her and sits everything down in the middle of the living room, plopping himself down on the couch next to Harry, who is eyeing him suspiciously, knowing what usually arrives in carrier like the one Louis has brought.

“Why don't you open the cage, love?” Louis suggests to Lia.

When Lia goes to open the cage, she hears a small meow and gasps, face frozen in shock, lips shaped in a perfect 'O' as she stares at it.

Louis is pretty sure he’s never seen someone move so fast in his life as she opens the carrier and pulls out the tiniest, fluffiest, little grey kitten with white paws.

Lia just proceeds to endlessly squeal and then promptly burst into tears out of excitement and overwhelming feelings.

“T-thank y-you so mu-uch,” Lia manages to get out between her sons and deep breaths.

“You're welcome, love, but dear, take a few deep breathes for me, okay?” Louis requests.

Eventually Lia calms down enough and starts to pull out the little toys and other cat essentials Louis had also purchased.

“I can't believe you bought her a cat,” Harry comments a while later after things have calmed down. Louis thinks he’s trying to look annoyed but is actually rather fond.

“She's wanted one for sometime, and I thought it would make a nice present. You're not too mad, are you?” Louis suddenly worries he might have crossed some sort of line, but he doesn't worry long because Harry lets out a deep sigh.

“No, I don't think I could be angry. I mean, look how happy she is. She's ecstatic.”

They both take a moment to watch Lia cuddle and play with her new kitten, babbling excitedly to it about how much she loves it and how it will love living with her and her daddy.

“You know you're helping clean after it, right?” Harry says, wrapping an arm around Louis’ shoulders.

“I figured,” Louis laughs. This seems to startle Lia into remembering that there are, in fact, other people in the room.

She runs up to Louis, still cradling the kitten, and hugs him with one arm. "Thank you so, so, so, so much Lou-wee!”

“You're very welcome, again, love. Do you know what you want to name him?” Louis questions.

Lia stands in her spot for a few minutes, a look of concentration on her face until her features suddenly morph into excitement and she exclaims, “Sir Mister Purple Pancake!” with the proudest look on her face.

Both Harry and Louis laugh, Harry commenting, “Well, at least I can call it pancake.”

Lia sends him an annoyed look, something akin to ‘that-is-not-his-full-name-how-very-dare-you’ but decides to leave it alone in favor of playing with Sir Mister Purple Pancake.

**

The next day, they make their way to Harry's parents to celebrate Christmas with them. Louis likes to think he's feeling more at ease than Harry had, but, then again, Louis is pretty good at lying to himself.

Lia is absolutely thrilled to be going to see her grandparents, and her excitement is rubbing off a little on Louis.

When they arrive, Lia doesn't even have her feet on the ground for more than five seconds before she's taking off for the front door, hurling it open, and tumbling inside.

Louis and Harry watch with amused looks as they gather their bags from the boot of the car and make their way into the house, closing the door since Lia neglected to do so.

The boys abandon their bags in the hallway and Harry takes Louis’ hand and squeezes it. “Ready?”

“Bring it on,” Louis says confidently. They make their way to the living room to find Lia already snuggled up in her grandmother’s lap, telling her all about her Christmas and her brand new kitten.

Harry's step-father is sitting on a very comfortable looking chair while Gemma sits next to Anne on the love seat, everyone listening intently to Lia’s story.

When Lia is finally finished with her story at lightning fast pace, she looks up and notices that her dad and Louis have finally made it inside. She bolts out of Anne’s lap and straight for Louis and grabs his hand, pulling him farther into the room.

“Lia, can you introduce everyone to Louis?” Harry asks Lia politely.

“Yes, I can,” Lia says demurely. “This is my grandma Anne, she makes the best cookies,” Lia says while pointing at her grandmother.

Anne chuckles and says, “Thank you, lovey. It's so nice to finally meet you, Louis.”

“Likewise,” Louis says with his warmest smile.

Lia then points over to her grandfather. "This is grandpa Robin. He is silly sometimes, but that is okay.” Robin just chuckles and gives Louis a nod, one that Louis returns.

Lia then points over at Gemma. “And you know Auntie Gemma.”

“That I do, so nice to meet everyone,” Louis makes sure to smile at everyone before he and Harry take up residence on the other couch in the room. Lia soon pulls out a box full of toys her grandparents keep for her and proceeds to make a mess out of the living room floor.

Everyone chats while a Christmas movie plays in the background, and soon it's time for dinner, Anne going out into the kitchen to check on the roast in the oven and then calling everyone to dinner.

Dinner is a bit quieter than in Harry's apartment, but it's no less enjoyable. Lia has many things to talk about and deems it necessary to catch her grandparents up on every aspect of her life.

After dinner, Louis stays behind to help Anne with the washing up while everyone floats back to the living room to watch more Christmas movies and get ready to open a few more Christmas presents.

“Dinner was lovely, thank you so much again, Anne,” Louis comments as he hands Anne a dish to dry off.

“Thank you dear, we’re very happy to have you here,” Anne responds.

“I'm so happy to be here, too. It's uncanny how much both Gemma and Harry look like you, must be some very good genes,” Louis shamelessly compliments. He's not lying, though; Harry's family is full of gorgeous people.

“You little flatterer,” Anne laughs. Louis just shrugs it off with a smile.

They wash and dry dishes in silence for a few moments before Anne speaks again. “You know, the both of you look absolutely smitten. I was always a little worried when Harry would start dating again. Not many people want to be committed so early on in a relationship, but I can tell you're good for each other, and Lia seems quite taken with you too.”

Louis blushes a little. “Truthfully, it seemed a bit scary at first. But, I truly love them both, and I'm quite happy Harry really gave me a chance.”

“Well, Louis, welcome to the family,” Anne says, and Louis smiles down towards his chest, elated that Harry's family likes him, too.

**

After dinner, they open more presents. Harry's parents get them a gift certificate to get a couples massage and spa day, which sounds absolutely amazing to both of them, thanking both Anne and Robin multiple times.

Gemma, Anne, and Robin all shower Lia in more clothes and toys, all while Harry grimaces. How much stuff does a four year old really need?

Harry and Louis give Anne a new necklace and Robin a case of his favorite beer, while Gemma gives her parents both gift cards for both dinner and a movie.

After all the wrapping paper is cleaned up, they pop in another Christmas movie and drink hot chocolate while Lia plays with all her new toys.

Louis, cuddled into Harry's side, thinks that Christmas went rather well this year and that it's a pretty good system for Christmases in the future. There's a fleeting moment where he hopes he's not getting ahead of himself, just assuming that there will be more Christmases shared between all of them. But with another look around the living room at this sight that already feels familiar and Harry's arm a steady, warm weight around his shoulders, he's certain he has nothing to worry about. 


	8. Winter

January comes in a series of cold, icky, slightly snowy days. As happy a child as Lia is, even she can get cranky when the sky’s grey for too many days and it’s too cold to play outside. 

“She’s got cabin fever, I reckon,” Zayn suggests one day in mid-January, the five guys and Lia crowded around Harry’s living room while the snow falls heavily outside. If they didn’t all have jobs to get to, they’d likely all crash here for the next two days. 

“Possible,” Liam agrees, staring with tired eyes as Lia continues to bang on a colorful xylophone Niall had gotten her ages ago. It’s tiny and very likely meant for two year olds, but Lia has had all of her toys pulled out for entertainment the past few days. Every toy she gets bored of after only a few minutes, which is why Harry practically begged them all to come over to  _ try _ and keep her entertained. Niall is currently trying to coax her into a game of checkers, but she’s just not having it.

“How about Candy Land?” Harry offers between Lia’s hits on the xylophone, but she just frowns and shakes her head. “Trouble?” Another shake. “Disney Princess Monopoly?” She pauses for a moment, considering, but then shakes her head again. 

Harry resigns with a heavy sigh, sinking into the sofa cushions. “I’m losing it, guys,” he laments, his brows dipped with sorrow. “I’ve lost it.” 

Zayn chuckles from his spot on the floor near Niall, just their knees touching. That’s still weird and new, and honestly Louis doesn’t want to think much about it. (Don’t even get him started on the one morning he walked into  _ his _ kitchen in  _ his _ flat to find Niall standing butt naked in front of their fridge. He hadn’t even known Niall and Zayn were a  _ thing _ . That was… That was a very interesting morning.) 

“Harry, mate,” Zayn says, “you’re sounding too melodramatic.” 

“Yeah, you’re sounding too Zayn,” Niall tacks on, receiving a hard shove from the man beside him. He cackles all the same, shoving right back. 

“I want to go outside!” Lia shouts suddenly, her voice making all five grown men jump. 

“Lia, love, we can’t,” Louis tells her gently. 

“Why not!” 

“It’s too cold,” Liam explains, shuddering at the mere thought of the outdoors. 

“And too snowy. It’s a storm right now, Lia,” Niall adds. “There’s no fun in that.” 

Lia pouts, shoves away her xylophone, and crosses her arms against her chest. “But I’m bored.” 

“Well, what would you like to do?” Liam tries. Silly Liam. You can’t reason with a bored four year old.

“Go outside,” she repeats, glaring at the floor littered with toys. All boring toys, apparently. 

“Lia, we can’t—” Harry starts again, heaving a sigh, but Louis cuts him off with a new suggestion. 

“How about hide and seek, Lia?” 

Lia stops wiggling her foot, her glare smoothing out as she considers it. The pout finally eases away, and she’s smiling lightly when she nods and pushes up from the floor. “Okay! Can I be first seeker?” 

All five of them stare at Lia in shock for a moment, disbelief that Lia has finally agreed to  _ something _ . Harry squeezes Louis’ thigh in a silent thanks, and then he’s nodding his head maybe a little too enthusiastically as he says, “Yes, Lia, you can be first seeker! Right, guys? Right, alright, cool, let’s all go hide.” 

Harry practically yanks all of them up from their seats and shoves them out of the room and toward other parts of the flat as he gets Lia set up against the door to the flat, her eyes covered and counting slow.

Louis crawls into the closet in Harry’s bedroom, hiding the best he can between all the clothes. His legs are mostly unhidden and it’s definitely not the best hiding spot, but he figures it’ll do just fine for this round. He can still faintly hear Lia counting in the living room when another body forces its way into Louis’ space, forcing clothes out of the way and making the hangers clang against the bar. 

“You’re a fucking miracle worker,” Harry’s voice comes out as a whisper before he’s crashing his lips against Louis’ in a harsh kiss. “God, I fucking love you, Louis.” 

Louis is thankful for the darkness of the closet because his cheeks are burning with Harry’s sudden burst of passion. God, what,  _ no _ , he was just caught off guard, damn it. Shaking his head at himself, Louis kisses Harry nice and slow, pulling him close as his back finds the side wall of the closet. It lasts for a minute or more, long enough that he’s fairly certain Lia has long since stopped counting and they’ll likely be the first one’s found, which… fuck that, really. So Louis pulls away abruptly, whispering, “I fuckng love you, too, you goof, now be quiet and hide with me. I’m not about to lose this child’s game because of you, Curls.” 

He can’t see it in the darkness, but Louis is certain Harry’s dimples are shining as they tuck themselves away behind all of Harry’s clothes and listen to Lia calling out, “Ready or not, here I come!” 

**

“You seriously won’t tell me where we’re going?” Harry asks for the fourth time since Louis picked him up twenty minutes before. 

Louis shakes his head with a negative hum and keeps on driving into the city. The buildings are getting taller and closer together, and Harry stares at him curiously while they continue driving. 

“Can I guess?” Harry asks after another minute, glancing around at the old buildings mixed with skyscrapers. Cities are so beautiful and so weird, all at the same time. 

Louis shrugs, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “Sure.” 

“Fancy dinner?” Harry tries, considering they’re both wearing slacks and button-downs. Louis’ hair is even brushed and his beard is  _ trimmed _ . Yeah, he went all out for Valentine’s Day. Punks can be sentimental, too, okay? 

“Nope,” Louis answers. “I mean, yeah, I’ll feed you later, but that’s not where we’re heading right now.” 

“Movie?” 

“Please, Curls, do I  _ look _ like a cliché to you?” 

“That’s fair,” Harry agrees. “And thank god, I can’t imagine how packed the theaters are today. Okay, so…” Harry trails off and looks back out the window. “I don’t know. I’d guess a musical at this point, but that doesn’t seem much like you.” 

Louis nods with a hum. “That’s true. I’d rather watch one of your horrid romantic comedies than sit through a musical.” 

“A play?” 

“God, no.” 

“Shopping?”

“Because nothing says Happy Valentine’s Day like shopping. Yeah, exactly, Curls,” Louis teases, turning off the main road and into the cheapest lot he can find. 

Harry tosses up his hands in a frustrated surrender. “Well, fine, then I give up.” 

“That’s fine, ‘cause we’re actually like less than a block away from our destination,” Louis informs him as he pulls into a spot and shuts off the car. “So you’ll figure it out in a couple minutes, baby. It’s okay.” 

Harry pouts, and Louis swears he’s been picking up pouting tips from Lia because  _ honestly _ , but gets out of the car and falls into step beside Louis all the same. Their hands find each other within seconds, and it’s more of natural, comforting thing nowadays than how it was earlier on in their relationship. 

“We’re here,” Louis announces a few minutes later, nudging Harry until he looks up at the building in front of them. A smile wipes across his face, teeth shining and green eyes lighting up as he takes in where they are. 

“I thought you hated art museums,” Harry muses softly, still grinning as he looks back at Louis. He looks positively ecstatic.  _ God, I’m in love with such a nerd _ . 

Louis forces himself to look away from Harry as he shrugs his reply. “Not a huge fan of museums, but I can appreciate art from time to time. Have to as an artist, don’t I? On principle or some shit, yeah?” 

“Well, of course,” Harry agrees, trying to tame his too wide grin but failing horribly. It’s terribly endearing, and sometimes Louis is amazed at how much he loves this stupidly tall boy with the curls even after all these months. This is one of those times. 

And maybe it’s one of those times for Harry, too, because his smile softens and he stares at Louis for a long moment before drawing him closer with a touch to his side. He kisses Louis gently and slowly, and it feels far too intimate a kiss to be sharing on a public walk in front of a museum, but somehow Louis really can't be bothered enough to care.

A dopey smile is strung along Harry’s lips when they pull away, and Louis doubts he’s faring much better. He certainly feels dazed. 

Harry stares for a moment longer before shaking his head, smiling to himself as he offers Louis his arm in a sickeningly gentleman fashion. “Shall we?” 

Louis would probably gag at this behavior on screen, but he can’t help but feel so fucking enamored as he stares at this curly-haired man beside him and loops their arms. “Let’s go appreciate some art, Curls.” 

**

The gallery is one hell of a place. There are masterpieces that Louis had never even entertained the idea of seeing with his own eyes, and now they’re here right in front of him. It’s sort of truly mind blowing.

But the real masterpiece, what makes the whole trip worth the cost of admission, is seeing Harry admire every piece of art they come across. His eyes are wide as they take in every brushstroke and color, his lips parted in awe as he stares at canvases three times his size. 

Louis can admit the art is impressive and admirable, but he’s too distracted by Harry’s sparkling eyes to recognize the beauty hung on the walls. 

**

After the museum and dinner at a small diner (“Please, I don’t need a fancy restaurant after  _ that _ , Louis, the museum was more than enough,” Harry had insisted in the car), they wind up at Louis and Zayn’s flat for the night. It’s dead quiet and pitch black when they enter, and Louis thinks he probably should have left a light on earlier since he knew Zayn would be out tonight. (“Out” being at Harry’s with Niall and Lia for the night.)

“So quiet,” Harry observes uselessly as he switches on a lamp in the living room. They’re bathed in an artificial yellow glow, and Louis can imagine this atmosphere being immensely awkward in many situations. But as he looks at the boy across from him, awkward is the last thing Louis feels. 

And the first thing Louis feels is, “I love you.” 

He loves the way Harry still reacts to those words. Months later and he still looks surprised and pleased and on top of the fucking world every time Louis says those three words; his eyes widen just a little before his lips pull into a loose, easy smile, dimples always popping into place. This time is no different, and he hardly misses a beat before echoing, “I love you, too.” 

“So much,” Louis adds for good measure, taking two steps until they’re in each other’s space. 

Harry’s hands find their way to rest on Louis’ sides, fingers digging into the fabric of his button-down. His eyes skirt around Louis’ features, and he looks in awe at what he sees, like Louis is some work of art in a museum and he’s just gained access to see him up close. It’s hardly the first time he’s seeing Louis like this, but he admires him all the same before repeating Louis’ words with a sort of overwhelmed disbelief, “So much, babe.” 

Louis’ chest tightens and warms under Harry’s gaze, and it’s all Louis can do to push forward until he can kiss Harry properly. It’s a slow kiss at first, lips gently brushing before rejoining again and again, but it quickly dissolves into a series of rougher, needy meetings. Harry bites down on Louis’ lower lip, holding it between his teeth before tugging it as he pulls away. His eyes blink open to meet Louis’, blue jumping into green and asking for more. 

“Bedroom?” Louis asks, never embarrassed anymore when he’s asking after only a few kisses. 

But if Harry’s spastic nodding and agreement isn’t anything to go by, he’s certainly been feeling the tension growing all day, too. 

They’re stumbling out of their shoes, socks, and slacks in Louis’ room not even a minute later, unbuttoning their shirts in a rush. Or, trying to, really. 

“Struggling?” Louis asks with a laugh as he perches on the edge of his bed, standing there in his boxer briefs and unbuttoned shirt as he looks over at Harry a foot away. The taller boy is fumbling with his buttons, still only halfway finished. He looks up with the hint of a blush on his cheeks, his lips screwed up in a little, embarrassed smile; it’s terribly cute, really. 

“C’mere,” Louis beckons him over. “I wanna do it.” 

Harry nods and steps over in front of Louis. Louis makes quick work with the buttons, but Harry’s taking his time soaking up the view before him. He’s eyes scrape over Louis’ body from head to toe and back again, and his gaze follows as he wraps his arms under Louis’ shirt and around his waist. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, and god, Louis used to think it was weird being called beautiful but he loves hearing Harry say it. 

“You’re one to be talking,” Louis bites right back, smirking as Harry smiles at his words. 

“But really, Lou,” Harry continues, his hands running up and down Louis’ sides, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. He shakes his head, eyes locked somewhere around Louis’ chest. “Somedays I can’t get over how in love with you I am… How lucky I am.” His eyes flit upward. “How lucky Lia and I are.” 

Louis’ chest does that thing again, that too full, too big feeling it does whenever Harry talks like that––whenever he realizes this is it for him;  _ Harry _ is it for him. So many words skip across Louis’ tongue, and he shakes his head, unable to choose which ones to let out. They’ll all find their way out eventually, he figures; he’s got years to tell Harry how he feels. 

For now, though, for now he just shakes his head and tugs Harry down onto the bed with him by the flaps of his open shirt. Their lips crash together sloppily at first, but Harry’s always quick to recover, propping himself up over Louis and lining their bodies up perfectly. 

Louis shoves at Harry’s shirt, whining when Harry breaks their kisses to pull his shirt off entirely but kissing him even harder when he comes back down. He grips at Harry’s biceps, lets his fingers dig into Harry’s skin as he bites at Harry’s lips. Harry licks into his mouth slowly, and Louis thinks he could kiss Harry like this every day for the rest of his life. He certainly wouldn’t mind it. 

Harry makes them switch sometime later, flopping down onto the mattress with a content sigh and grinning as Louis whines but props himself above Harry all the same. His whining doesn’t last long, not with Harry’s lips beneath him all pink and swollen and begging for more kisses. Louis obliges easily. 

“God, I love you,” Louis mutters out between kisses, and it sounds desperate in a way, like he needs Harry to hear it. 

Harry smiles into their kiss, shoving off Louis’ shirt all the way and pushing his briefs down in what feels like one sweeping motion. “I love you, babe,” Harry replies, meeting Louis’ eyes in the darkness. Louis doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of hearing Harry say that. 

Their lips meet again, and again and again, and they shed the last of their clothing in the minutes to follow. Louis grabs a bottle of lube and condom from the bedside table and settles himself down between Harry’s legs, spreading him open one slicked up finger at time while never letting his lips leave Harry’s skin. He keeps kissing Harry’s lips until the angle gets to be too much, and then he drags his lips down his neck, his collarbone, his chest, his smooth abs and little tummy. God, he loves Harry’s body. 

Harry’s squirming under Louis’ touch minutes later, his breaths catching on swallowed groans as he reaches for Louis. 

“Okay, babe, okay,” Louis pulls his fingers out with a breathy sort of laugh. “Play with me for a minute?” 

He doesn’t need it, god he’s hard as a fucking rock already, but he’ll be damned if he passes up Harry’s touch for even a few seconds as he rips open the condom. Harry nods and takes Louis in his hand, tugging at him quick and hard. He does it blindly, his head dipped back on the pillows and eyes squeezed shut, and Louis is about to ask him what’s wrong when he notices how hard Harry is himself. Without a word, Louis shoves Harry’s hand away and rolls on the condom, slicking himself up before moving forward and drawing Harry closer, his legs still spread wide. 

“You ready, love?” Louis asks gently, always making sure. 

“Yes, Lou,” Harry answers, his voice low and raspy and  _ god _ , Louis doesn’t need anymore directive before pushing inside of Harry, slow and long. He holds the position for a moment before pulling back out and thrusting back in. 

“Good?”

Harry nods, lifting his legs a little more to accommodate. He finally blinks open his eyes to meet Louis’ gaze a minute later, once he’s adjusted to the feeling of having Louis inside of him. 

Harry pulls Louis down for a kiss, half coming off the bed himself with the angle, trying to hold it as Louis continues pushing into him with more frequent thrusts. Louis breathes out a laugh as their lips slide apart, but he ends on a groan as he sinks back into Harry. The heat surrounding him is like sensory overload, and he grabs at Harry’s dick, pumping in sync with his thrusts. 

“Come with me, baby,” Louis manages to get out on a breath, his lips somewhere on Harry’s cheek. 

Harry nods and meets Louis’ thrust halfway. “So close, Lou, so,” his words break to a low moan. 

And Louis loves this part, loves when they both reach that climax together. It’s fast and everything is hot and sweaty and sticky, but really he wouldn’t have it any other way when he pulls out of Harry and flops down onto the mattress beside him, his chest heaving with his breaths. 

“I love you so much,” Harry declares a minute later, the room quieter, their breathing more normal. He turns his head against the mattress to look at Louis, and he smiles something wide and toothy that shines even in the darkness. “I really do, Lou. Today was… Today was amazing. Spectacular. Thank you.” 

Louis smiles easily, sure he looks dopey post-sex. “You know how easy it is to love you, Hazza?” he wonders, because honestly why would Harry ever have to thank him for doing anything? “Today was nothing, really, but I loved spending it with you.” 

Harry grins even wider. “Me too, Lou.” 

They hold each other’s gaze for a long moment before Harry breaks it just to cuddle up along Louis’ side. 

If you had told Louis a year ago that this is how he’d be spending his Valentine’s Day this year or that he’d be  _ this _ happy, he’d have told you you were mad. But now, now Louis can’t imagine his life any other way. 

**

Louis loves lazy days with Harry and Lia, especially when Lia is content to occupy herself with toys on the floor so that he and Harry can snuggle up on the couch, barely paying attention to a kid-friendly show on TV, and just enjoy each other's presence.

After a few more moments of lazy snuggles, Louis practically dozing off with Harry in his arms, Harry turns his face towards louis and says quietly, “You basically live here now, don’t you?”

Louis blushes just a little, trying to formulate some excuse as for why he has so much of his shit in a place he doesn’t live when Harry continues, “Why don’t you just move in?”

There’s a beat where Louis could, probably should ask  _ are you serious?  _ But Harry trudges on, “I’m sure Lia won’t mind. She asks me if you can sleep over nearly every day as it is.”

Louis can’t do anything but whisper, “I’d love to.”

And, that’s that.

**

Louis had just gotten to back to Harr- their flat and is preparing a snack for when Lia is dropped off by Gemma, who occasionally would get her from school if Louis and Harry’s schedules conflict. 

Five minutes pass and suddenly the door is being opened and closed with a quick, “Hi Lou! Bye Lou! Gotta get to the dentist but I’ve brought your daughter home safe and sound!”

Louis attempts to shout a, “Hi! Thanks!” just as the door is shutting. 

Soon, small feet can be heard running towards the kitchen where Louis has finished putting up cut fruit in a bowl, Lia’s preferred snack. _Like father, like daughter_ , Louis thinks to himself.

“Papa! Papa!” Lia squeals as she comes dashing in, waving a paper around in her hand. She runs straight up to a stunned Louis and proudly shows off the drawing in her hand. 

“Hello, my love,” Louis greets her as he takes the picture from her so he can see it close up. "Is this for Daddy, love? I'm afraid he won't be home for a little while yet”

But Lia shakes her head and looks absolutely pleased as she announces, “No, it’s for you, Papa!”

Louis stares at Lia for a moment in confusion. _Papa?_ But she's still looking up at him with excitement, so he turns his attention and studies the paper closely. It’s a crayon drawing of three stick people. The middle stick person is obviously Lia, as it is much shorter and has long, curly hair and ‘Lia’ labeled above its head. The stick figure to the left is super tall and wearing a hat with the word ‘Daddy’ written above it. When Louis’ eyes land on the very right stick figure, he lets out a quiet gasp. This stick figure is taller than Lia but not as tall as Harry’s stick figure and over it, it says ‘Papa.’ 

Louis’ eyes widen as he has probably the most monumental realization of his life.  _ Shit, I  _ am  _ her papa. This is my family, I have a kid, oh my god,  _ Louis thinks. She’s never called him Papa before today, he wonders fleetingly where she learned that from.

As he comes to terms with this epiphany he looks up into the big, sparkling eyes and big grin of  _ his daughter. She is my daughter,  _ he thinks.  _ We are a family.  _

Louis’ smile grows to match Lia’s. He’s so, so happy. Elated. Ecstatic. He loves his family so much, he’s not sure his heart will actually be able to contain it. 

“This is gorgeous, my love," he eventually manages to say. "Absolutely stunning, it’s going right up on the fridge,” Louis tells Lia as he turns around and attaches the picture to the fridge with alphabet magnets. Louis is definitely one proud papa. 

Once Lia has dropped off her backpack in her room, they settle on the couch in the living room and eat cubed fruit while watching  _ Finding Nemo  _ again, and Louis doesn’t think he could wipe the smile off his face if he tried.

** 

Later that night he tells Harry about the new "Papa" development, and if they happen to enthusiastically have three goes in the sheets that night, well. No one has to know. 

**

A couple days later, when Harry is at work and Lia is at school, Louis takes the stick figure drawing with him to their tattoo shop where he knew Zayn's working that afternoon. 

It really hadn’t taken Louis much time at all to decide what to do with the blank side opposite of his fox den tattoo, he just had to wait for an opportunity.  That’s how Louis finds himself driving home a few hours later with a brand new bandage on his arm and a secret smile on his face. 

When he arrives home, Harry notices the bandage on his arm right away and proceeds to bother Louis the entire night, flirting shamelessly, and fluttering his eyelashes whenever he gets the chance. Louis definitely knows where Lia gets her charm. 

Louis finally relents when they're in bed that night, Harry rolling over onto him, essentially pinning him to the bed, and whining, “Looouuuuu, pleeeaaassseee, please, please, please, show meeeee.” 

“Okay, okay, you're just as bad as _our_ daughter,” Louis jokes. Harry absolutely glows when Louis refers to Lia as “theirs.” 

Harry rolls off Louis so that they can both sit up against the headboard, and Louis can feel the excitement rolling off Harry as they bump shoulders. 

Louis carefully peels back the wrap and soaks in the small gasp Harry lets out.

“Lou,” Harry whispers, his fingers automatically going to trace the new ink.

“Do you like it?” Louis asks nervously, experiencing a brief moment of panic that Harry might think it's too much. That is, until Harry wraps Louis up in a fierce hug and kisses any and all skin he can reach. 

“Lou, oh my gosh, that's so amazing, I love it, I love it, I love it!” Harry rushes out, quickly pressing his lips to Louis’. 

Louis lets himself be kissed within an inch of his life, or at least he tries. It's hard to kiss while smiling, but he tries his absolute best. 

**

Another weekend, another football game to play. 

This time, though, it's a bit chillier, but that doesn't stop Harry and Lia from coming out to cheer him on. They even drove in with Louis so they could watch the warm-ups.

They cheer him on through the whole game, hot chocolates in hand. 

Lia even waves around a painted poster for the better part of the match, cheering on, “Papa Lou-wee! Papa Lou-wee!”

Louis loves his fan club more than anything.

**

Louis stares up at the small, unassuming building in front of him. He really shouldn’t feel nervous, but he does. This is his first time picking Lia up from her class alone, and every step he takes with his little family feels wonderfully huge and important and he welcomes it, he does, he’s just nervous because he wants to do well at being a papa. He wants to make his little family proud in every way. 

Louis takes a deep breath and mutters to himself, “You are literally fine, you giant twat, just go get your girl.”

As Louis makes his way through the school, searching for room number twelve, he’s aware of all the stares. He supposes that wearing a tank top with his usual tight skinny jeans doesn't really help, but he’s nothing if not himself. 

He makes sure to hold his head high and even greet a few of the gawping parents. He’s totally got this. 

Eventually, he finds room twelve at the end of a hallway and makes his way inside. There are more parents milling around and many children playing with toys and coloring while they wait for their parents to pick them up. 

Many of them look up to see the newcomer, and Louis fidgets a little at all the sudden attention. A petite brunette woman, one different than on the first day of school, finally approaches him, looking uncomfortable and confused as she asks, “Can I help you?”

Louis ignores all the strange looks and answers, “Oh, yes, I’m here to pick up Lia? I’m her other dad.” 

He’s a little irritated that the teacher looks skeptical at this information, but then Lia runs up with her little back pack on and a piece of paper in her hand, yelling, “Papa! Papa!”

Louis bends down to scoop her up and presses kisses all over her face as she giggles. When she’s calmed down a bit, Louis asks, “How was school today, my little monster?”

Lia’s face absolutely lights up (she loves school). “It was great!” she exclaims. She then proceeds to shove the piece of paper in her hand into Louis’ face so that he can see the lovely picture on it. “Look, I colored you a picture!” she squeals.

Once the picture is at a more normal viewing distance, he makes sure to look over it thoroughly before complimenting, “Oh, Lia, it’s beautiful.” He is still dutifully ignoring all the stares, focusing solely on his babygirl.

Lia is absolutely preening as she asks, “Will you get this one colored on your arm, too, Papa?” 

Louis shakes his head sadly, explaining, “I don’t think I’ve got anymore room, sorry love.” He kisses Lia’s forehead as she pouts. 

He has been so absorbed with Lia, he startles a little bit when Lia’s teacher pipes up, “You got a tattoo of one of her drawings?” Louis thinks she looks a bit fascinated.

Casually, Louis answers her, “Yeah! Brilliant, isn’t it?” Louis switches Lia to his other arm so he can proudly show off the tattoo he got of Lia’s family picture. He adores it and wants to show it off to anyone who's willing to look.  

There’s an awkward moment of silence when Louis decides it’s best they get going, so before anyone else has the chance to talk, he abruptly says, “"Well! We've got to be off, got to go pick Daddy up from work. Lovely to meet you, Ms. Johnson.” 

Louis carries Lia down the hallway and out of the building, ignoring the stares once again as he listens to Lia argue that they should have waffles for dinner. And really, who is he to deny waffles?


	9. Spring

Louis wishes things could be bright and peachy every day, but that just wouldn’t be realistic, would it? He can only recall a handful of days when he’s felt blue over the past several months that Harry and Lia have been in his life, and most were days spent upset over stupid little things––things that were always resolved before either he or Harry went to bed. They never left a fight or anything negative to brew overnight. 

Really, a handful of negative days across several months are easily forgotten. Louis’ life has felt pretty fucking amazing altogether, and he can’t think of a time in his past when he was ever this content and happy. 

So Louis tries to think nothing of it when Harry and he are called in for a meeting with the deputy head at Lia’s school. Harry tries, too, advising Louis as they wait in the deputy head’s office, “It’s probably just a routine meeting. Check up on Lia’s progress, yeah?” But Harry doesn’t even seem to believe it, not if the unsteady tilt to his lips is anything to go by.

But Louis nods, smiles weakly as he straightens up in his chair and smooths down the front of the plaid shirt he’d chosen for the day. The sleeves are rolled up, his ink on full display, and he wonders briefly if he should’ve left the sleeves down. But it’s warm outside and it’s not like the sleeves would cover all of his ink anyway; really there’s no way of hiding.

A knock sounds on the open door behind them, and Louis jumps at the noise as he turns to see a short, older man, Mr. Curtis, entering the room. He looks pleasant enough, but Louis’ stomach churns all the same. 

“Mr. Styles and Mr…” Mr. Curtis starts as he takes his seat and pauses to glance beneath his glasses at the papers in the center of his desk, “Tomlinson, is it?” 

“Yes, sir,” Louis confirms, and he hates how he feels like a rotten kid set to see the headmaster again.  _ You’ve done nothing wrong, you’ve done nothing wrong _ , he reminds himself like a mantra. 

“Right, how are you both doing today? Seems like the weather is taking a nice turn this week, isn’t it?” 

“We’re fine, Mr. Curtis,” Harry answers for them, and Louis hates pleasantries like this. “And the weather is quite lovely, yes.” 

“Good, good,” Mr. Curtis mumbles as he sifts through the papers on his desk, pausing to read through them for a moment like even he’s not sure why they’re all here today. “So,” he starts again, folding his hands on the desk and meeting Harry and Louis with a serious look, “I’ve called you both in today as a few of the reception class teachers and parents have shared a few concerns about Lia lately.” 

Louis’ heart sinks, and Harry leans forward in his seat, his eyes automatically taking that intense stare they get whenever he’s concerned. “Concerns?” he echoes the word. “What sort of concerns? Has she been acting up in class?” 

“Oh, no, no, nothing like that, Mr. Styles,” the deputy head assures him. “Lia is adjusting quite well to the classroom atmosphere. Ms. Johnson notes that she gets along with her peers more naturally than many of the other students. She’s quite charming, her report says.” 

“Then…” Harry trails off, glancing over at Louis like he must’ve missed something. “I’m sorry, I’m not really understanding the issue here, Mr. Curtis. It sounds like Lia is doing perfectly well.” 

“She is, she’s doing superbly,” Mr. Curtis agrees. He glances down at his papers again and levels each of them with a heavy stare before continuing, “Their concerns are more… outside of the classroom. In particular, the teachers are worried more about Lia’s home life and maybe some of the newer… shall we say ‘influences’ in her life the past few months.” 

There’s a moment of silence that falls over the room. Mr. Curtis’ words might have been vague—polite, even—but they were loud and clear, really, and Louis slumps back in his chair. 

“Is this newer influence having a negative impact on her behavior in school?” Louis asks after a long moment, his eyes locking with those of the deputy head and never wavering. 

Mr. Curtis refers to his papers again, undoubtedly reading through the notes that the reception class teachers had given him. His eyebrows furrow as he reads, and he admits after a moment, “No terribly negative impact, no, though Lia’s teachers note that she’s developed an ‘unnatural interest for her age’ in tattoos and body art.” 

Louis shrugs at that, can’t really believe this conversation is even happening. “So, kids have weird interests. It happens. Is she pressuring her fellow four and five year old peers into getting tattoos?”

“Well, no, Mr. Tomlinson, that’s not really—”

“Then why are we here, really?” Louis demands. “You’re a busy man, Mr. Curtis, I doubt you’d set aside time in your day to talk about a four year old’s odd interests in art.” 

The room falls silent again, but this time for a minute too long. 

This time, Harry breaks the quiet, wondering slowly, “Mr. Curtis? Is there a particular reason for this meeting beyond Lia’s interests?” 

The deputy head looks down at his desk again, his hands fidgeting as he considers his words. Finally, he sighs and explains calmly, “Mr. Styles and Mr. Tomlinson, I’ll be frank with you. Some of the teachers and parents are worried about the particular lifestyle you two might be exposing Lia to at home. In particular, Mr. Tomlinson,” he pauses, shifting his gaze to Louis, “they’re concerned about what influence, intentional or not, you might be having on Lia.” 

They’re silent again, and Louis and Harry share a long look. What do you even say to that? Louis sort of wants to disappear into his chair, dissolve through the floor, maybe. 

Without a word, Harry stands up and motions for Louis to do the same. 

“Mr. Styles,” the deputy head starts, holding up a hand. 

But Harry shakes his head. “With all due respect, Mr. Curtis, if the newer  _ influences _ are not having any visible negative impact on Lia’s behavior in school or her health and well-being, then our home life is really none of the school’s concern.” 

Before Mr. Curtis can say another word, Harry grabs for Louis’ hand and pulls him out of the room, out of the offices, and out of the building, never letting go until they reach the car. 

**

They sit in the car in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. 

“I’m sorry,” are the first words out of Harry’s mouth, and Louis hates that. Hates that Harry feels any sort of responsibility for what just happened. 

“Don’t,” Louis tells him, shaking his head and finally doing up his seat belt. “Can we just go home?” 

Harry nods and does up his buckle, starting the car and keeping the radio volume on the lowest notch. They drive in the quiet, and Louis stares out the window for most of the drive, hating that the weather is so nice today, hating that the sun could shine when he’s feeling this incredibly low. 

_ Mr. Tomlinson, they’re concerned about what influence, intentional or not, you might be having on Lia _ . 

Mr. Curtis’ words run through Louis’ mind on an endless repeat. He’s fuming at first, his blood boiling at the absurdity of the entire situation, the idea that anyone in today’s world is concerned about a little girl because she has two dads. It’s ridiculous. It’s bullshit, is what it is. 

Louis grits his teeth as the words replay, taunting his mind and every worry he’s had since Harry and Lia first entered his life. He never thought he was ready for this kind of life, has always worried that he wasn’t cut out to be a dad, to be someone that others depend on. Hearing anyone voice his concerns aloud, suggest that yeah, he might actually not be cut out for this dad job… He sort of wants to puke. 

He lets Harry hold him when they get home, lets Harry envelope his entire body in his arms. They stay like that near the front door for some time, just breathing each other in. 

“I don’t even know what to say,” Harry eventually admits in a broken whisper, his lips brushing against the side of Louis’ neck. 

_ Am I a bad influence? _ Louis wants to ask as Harry pulls back and meets his eyes.  _ Am I bad for Lia? _

He doesn’t say any of those things, though, opts for, “Not sure there really is anything to say.” 

Harry frowns, stares at Louis very seriously for a moment before saying, “You know that entire meeting was totally out of line and completely uncalled for… right?” 

And it’s close to a reassurance, as close to one that Louis can get without flat out asking Harry to tell him all of his suspicions are wrong. But Harry’s words fall flat with the way Louis’ mind is still racing, the meeting drawing up a chest full of insecurities Louis has tried to bury. 

Louis nods, though, even smiles shortly. “Right,” he agrees and pushes himself from the wall. “I’m gonna take a bit of a stroll, though, yeah? Fresh air. Clear my head a bit.” 

There’s a moment where it looks like Harry is going to keep Louis from leaving, and Louis wonders fleetingly if Harry can see the wild, sort of hysterical spark running free in his eyes. He’s sure he can; Harry knows him too well at this point. 

But Harry smiles and nods, his dimples not making an appearance. “Yeah, yeah, of course, Lou,” he says and leans forward for a short kiss. “Be back soon?” 

Louis smiles––tries to, anyway––and nods as he turns for the door. “‘Course, Curls.”

**

But ‘soon’ is a horrible sort of word. It’s vague and it’s messy, an empty promise. 

Louis tries not to think about it as he boards a train in the city an hour later, slipping his phone into silent and do not disturb mode simultaneously. A heavy weight settles in his stomach as he shoves his phone back into his pocket, but he tries not to think about it. He’s trying not to think about a lot of things today, and it’s failing spectacularly. 

He’s not going home, can’t imagine explaining this day, that meeting, to his mum. He can’t do that, anyway. He’s 25. He can’t go running home to his mum every time something goes a little wrong. 

He gets off the train at an old, familiar stop another hour later. The sun’s already getting lower in the sky, but it bathes all of his surroundings in rich, golden, burning hues. It casts long shadows that darken the gravel trail Louis knew so well not even five years before, back when he was in uni, back when he felt like the world was always running too fast for him to ever keep up. 

The trail winds through a mess of trees and overgrown shrubs and plants. The gravel disappears under a layer of dead, soggy leaves that somehow survived the winter. Louis lets his feet guide him along the familiar path until it opens up into a grassy hill. It’s still part of the campus, he’s fairly certain, as someone’s undoubtedly in charge of maintaining the grounds, but it’s always void of anyone else. It was Louis’ favorite spot whenever his classes got too stressful, or when he felt like he was losing control. He’d come here, to this big open space, and stare out over the world below him, and after a couple hours no problem seemed to be so big. 

With a sigh, Louis settles on the grass, keeping his knees bent in front of him as he takes a few long, deep, steadying breaths. 

Mr. Curtis’ words had replayed in his mind so much on the train ride up here that they no longer sound like actual words. They sound marbled and fake, and to be honest Louis is still shocked to have heard a grown man say such things to his face. 

But all of Louis’ old insecurities are still out in the open, his anxieties maximized to the point where he’d begun to tell himself on the train ride that they’re right. The teachers and other parents are right to be concerned; Louis isn’t cut out for this job. Louis isn’t a good influence on Lia. 

At least, that’s what Louis was starting to believe. Anxiety can make you believe some wild things. 

With the world stretching out before him, though, Louis tries his best to shove away that open chest of insecurities. He thinks of his life the past several months, of all the times Lia has come running to him with questions and smiles and drawings and praise. He thinks of the times Harry has told him how much Lia loves and adores him, how good he is with her. He thinks of the times that Zayn has admitted he’s impressed, despite how weird it is to see Louis being a dad so soon. He thinks of the dad he never really had while growing up, and he hopes and prays he won’t ever be like that, prays he’s already better than that. 

He lies back on the grass and thinks of how happy he is with his life. He didn’t even know this kind of happiness existed until Harry and Lia came into his life.

The chest of insecurities slowly,  _ slowly _ starts to close again, and Louis’ heart finally begins to beat at a normal pace, his breathing evening. He’s so relaxed that his eyes begin to droop, the sun continuing to lower in the sky. 

**

The sun has disappeared below the horizon when Louis jerks awake to a buzzing in his pocket. He furrows his brow at first, confused with his surroundings and with his phone. 

“Thought I silenced you,” he mutters as he frees the device from his pocket. It’s lighting up and buzzing in his hand, a picture of Harry and Lia lighting up the screen. He stares at it for a moment, debating, before accepting the call. “Hello?” 

“Louis?” Harry asks. He sounds panicked. 

“Yeah, of course it’s me. What’s the matter?” 

“What’s the matter?” Harry laughs, but it doesn’t sound humored. “Louis, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all afternoon. It’s half past eight now. Where the–” he pauses, and the sounds behind him change, everything getting quieter, including his voice. “Where the hell are you?” 

“I, erm,” Louis hesitates, biting his lip. He hadn’t really thought of how he’d explain this.  _ Had to get away _ sounds like such a dumbass answer. “Took a bit of a road trip.” 

A beat, then, “You said you were taking a stroll.” 

“It was impromptu. I  _ was _ just taking a walk, but then I… Got on a train?” 

“You got on a train?” Harry asks in disbelief, and Louis can picture the manic sort of look in his eyes right now, the look he gets whenever he really can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Louis, I’m sorry, but what the fuck?” 

And honestly, Louis doesn’t know how to answer that, so he doesn’t. 

A minute passes, just their breathing crossing over the invisible lines. “Is this,” Harry starts, “is this about the meeting today?” 

Sometimes no answer is all the answer you need. 

Harry sighs, but it doesn’t sound frustrated. He just sounds tired. “Babe, why didn’t you just talk with me earlier? I told you they were out of line…” 

“I know,” Louis says, even though he doesn’t. Didn’t. “I know, I just… It hit a chord, I guess. I’ve sorta been worried for months that I’m not cut out for this… For Lia. For you. And I guess just hearing the deputy head voice the same concerns kinda just…” He’s not crying, he’s not crying, he is  _ not crying _ . 

“Oh, Lou…” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“What? No, Louis, babe, no,” Harry rushes to keep Louis from apologizing anymore. “Please, don’t be.” 

“Okay.”

“Alright,” Harry settles. He lets a beat pass before asking, words hesitant, “Are you coming home tonight?” 

The question catches Louis off guard. Even in all his upset he hadn’t ever thought of  _ not _ going home. Where else would he go? What would he do? “Baby, of course I’m coming home,” he assures Harry, hating that that’s a thing he even has to say. “You and Lia are my world, you know.” 

“Yeah?” Harry asks, and Louis can tell he’s grinning, even from this far. 

“Yeah. My universe, really.” 

“Good, ‘cause you’re both mine, too. Speaking of Lia, though… Will you talk with her for a bit? She’s been upset since getting home. I tried telling her that you were just out, but I guess I’m not so good at hiding my own worries.” 

Louis’ chest tightens, and he thinks about how fucking much he loves this silly boy and his daughter––their daughter. So much it’s unreal. 

“Put her on,” Louis tells him. “I’ll talk with her my whole train ride home if I have to.” 

“Okay, I’ll get her in a minute,” Harry says. “Louis?” 

“Yes, Harry?” 

“I love you, Louis.” 

Without fail, Louis’ chest feels too tight, too full, too big. “I love you, too, Harry. More than anything.” 

**

Louis has only been off the phone with Lia for half an hour by the time he’s walking through the door of their apartment later that night. Most of the lights are off except for a lamp in the living room, and it’s quiet.  _ Good _ , Louis thinks. That must mean Harry got Lia to bed. 

The bad floorboard between the hallway and kitchen creaks behind Louis as he’s taking off his shoes by the door, and he turns to see Harry standing in the threshold. “You’re home,” he says, sounding every bit of relieved. 

“I’m home,” Louis confirms and walks over to Harry, looking up at him, at that face he loves more than any other face in the world. Without another word, he wraps his arms around Harry’s frame and hugs him tight. Harry reciprocates the hug in a heartbeat, his hold so snug it almost hurts; Louis welcomes it. 

“I love you,” Harry says as they pull apart a minute later, their eyes catching. 

Louis smiles, keeping a hand on Harry’s side. “And I love you.” 

Harry smiles, too, and finds Louis’ hand with his own before turning and pulling him into the kitchen. “Did you eat anything? I saved you a plate.” 

Harry is so perfect, honestly, Louis could cry. “That sounds delicious, baby, thank you,” he says and squeezes Harry’s hand in thanks. 

Harry smiles again and breaks their touch as he busies himself with pulling the plate from the fridge and heating it up. They stay silent as Harry moves around the kitchen, Louis taking a seat at the table. 

It’s not until Louis is partway through his plate of food when Harry speaks up, breaking the quiet with, “You can’t just take off when things get rough, not when there’s a kid dependent on you. You know that, right?” 

Louis’ stomach churns with Harry’s words. He puts down his forkful of food. “I wasn’t ‘taking off.’” 

“Lou… You got on a train and went to a town an hour away.” 

“But I wasn’t taking off. That makes it sound like I wasn’t planning on coming back,” Louis bites out the words and shoves around some of the potatoes on his plate. And because it bares repeating, “I wasn’t taking off.” 

“Okay,” Harry settles. “You weren’t taking off. But you really had me worried. Lia, too.” 

“I’m sorry,” is all Louis can say, trying his best to not feel like a child getting scolded. “I wasn’t thinking. I was just… That meeting really psyched me out, and I needed to just…”

“Get away,” Harry supplies and reaches across the table to give Louis’ hand a squeeze. “I get that, and that’s fine. You just have to communicate that, yeah? You need to let me know what’s going on up there in times like this.” He points a finger up at Louis’ head. 

Louis nods. “I know. I can do that. I’ll do that. I’m sorry.” 

Harry shakes his head, though. “No need to be, Lou. I’m sorry that meeting really struck a nerve, though… I’m still disgusted by the whole thing, if I’m honest.” 

“Me too.” 

“They had no right to say any of that. Their  _ concerns _ are completely groundless, and honestly the whole thing was ridiculous,” Harry starts off, shaking his head like he’s trying to loosen some of the thoughts in there. “And really, Louis, you’re such a wonderful person, you’re  _ so _ good with Lia that I can’t even fathom how they’d look at you and be concerned with you having any sort of negative impact. It’s absurd. Somedays I feel like you’re more cut out for this whole dad job than I am—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Louis interrupts, but he can’t keep the smile from tearing across his lips. 

“I’m not!” Harry insists. “I’m being 100% real here, Lou, really. Sure, you’ve only known Lia a little while, but you connect with her in some ways that I can’t even understand. Like, yeah, all her uncles and aunt and grandparents make her happy as a clam, but she loves you something fierce, Louis… She really does. You’re her papa as much as I’m her dad. We’re a family, yeah? No one can change that with their concerns.” 

Louis smiles a small, tiny little smile, his lips pressed together as he stares down at his plate. 

“And if people do have concerns or anything to say,” Harry continues, his voice getting a little softer, “you just have to look past it. They don’t know how great our homelife really is. They don’t know what they’re talking about, and you have to remember that. Do you know much shit I had to deal with a 19 year old single, gay dad? A lot, Lou.  _ A lot _ . And sometimes you just have to ignore it. You don’t have a choice.” 

“So we just pretend that whole meeting never happened?” Louis wonders, because honestly that doesn’t sit so well with him. 

“Oh, god no,” Harry says, “we’ll be talking with them again. I already called the school again this afternoon, and all three of us have a meeting with the headmistress next week. She’s quite nice, though, we shouldn’t have a problem with her. I’m sure she’ll have a nice chat with the concerned teachers and get everything sorted.”

“Another meeting?” Louis whines, finally placing his fork down on the plate. “Do we have to?” 

“Yes, Louis. She needs to be aware of the happenings at her school,” Harry says very determinedly. There’s no way Louis is getting out of that meeting, he can already tell. “But, anyway, when I say you just have to ignore it, I mean you can’t let it get to you, Lou. All that crap today, you have to ignore what he’s implying, what he’s saying. You have to realize he’s in the wrong here, and you can’t let it psych you out, not when you have other things to worry about.” 

Louis lifts his eyebrows, not liking the sound of that. “What else do I have to worry about now?” 

A smile pulls at the corner of Harry’s lips, and he shrugs. “Me. Lia. Your family.” 

Louis smiles and shakes his head, leaning across the table to press a kiss to Harry’s lips. “I never have to worry about you two. You’re perfect. We’re perfect.” 

They really are. 

**

On a chilly day in April, Louis and Harry take Lia to the aquarium for the first time. Liam, Zayn, and Niall join them for a day of excitement.

Lia has done nothing but talk about going to the aquarium since Harry had mentioned it about a week ago. Louis finds it odd that they haven't taken her yet, considering _Finding Nemo_ is everything to her.

When they arrive at the aquarium, Lia shrieks the second they step out of the car, attempting to run off but is ultimately caught by Liam. “Now, young lady, you know you're supposed to hold onto someone's hand when we're walking, especially somewhere new.” 

Lia looks bashful as she murmurs, “Sorry, Uncle Li-Li.”

“That's okay, love, I know you're excited.” Liam bends down to kiss her head before taking her hand and leading their little pack in the direction of the entrance. 

Louis thinks they must look silly, four grown men escorting a small child into an aquarium, but he loves that the boys have come along, especially since Lia was absolutely thrilled that everyone was going to come with her.

A staff member takes their picture in front of a screen printed with the aquariums logo, and Louis is weak because he buys the overpriced photos, much to Lia’s delight and Zayn's amusement. 

Once they've made their way inside and given their tickets, Louis asks Lia, “Love, where would you like to go first?”

“Papa, I want to find the nemo’s!” Lia exclaims, smiling wide.

“Alright, love, let's go on an adventure!” Louis says, joining Lia in jumping around a bit before taking her hand and leading the way to a fun filled day.

**

They all spend the day learning about everything that lives in the ocean, Lia having the time of her life. Harry takes more pictures than Louis is sure he’ll know what to do with, and all the boys help to make sure Lia can sea all of the exhibits and help her brave the touch exhibits.

Lia also loses her shit every time she sees a creature that stars in _Finding Nemo_ , which provides a good laugh for all the boys every time it happens.

Louis’ heart feels so full, especially when he watches Harry take a picture of Lia standing in front of a tank full of clownfish with a giant grin on her face. He's so incredibly fond when he sees Harry set it as his lock screen.

When they eventually end up leaving, Lia clutching a new plushie hammerhead shark while she snoozes in the back of the car, Louis thanks every possible being out there for letting this be his life.


	10. Epilogue: June

Louis is very excited about today because he and his little family are having a picnic in the park. But, today is not just any ordinary day to have a picnic in the park. Today is the anniversary of the day he met Lia for the first time at said park. He’s a sentimental sap, sue him.

He spends the morning wrestling Lia into a sundress and some sandals, and then later a smothering of sunscreen, even though she protests the entire time.

“Love, please stand still, I’m almost done,” Louis pleads, swiping the white goops down her legs as fast as he can while trying to do a thorough job. Harry will freak if she even gets a little sunburn.

“Papa, I don’t like it,” Lia whines. Louis had hoped that Lia turning five would have lessened the whining, but he knew it wouldn’t, no matter how much he had wished for it to. 

“I know, little love, I know, but I’m almost finished. It would go by faster if you stood still. Daddy’ll have a cow if you’re not properly covered,” Louis tries to reason with her. He notices she stands a bit more still as he finishes up her other leg and down to her toes that peek out of her little sandals.

“There, all finished! Wasn’t so bad, was it?” Louis tries to keep his tone light so that maybe Lia will agree.

Lia pouts but still mutters, “I guess not.” Louis considers it a win.

“You’ll thank me later when you don’t have a single burn,” Louis says once Lia is out of earshot, smothering some sunscreen on the important, bare parts of his own body.

After finishing up with that, Louis then makes his way to the kitchen and finds Lia helping Harry prepare their basket of brunch foods. Louis is way more endeared by the fact that Harry owns a legitimate picnic basket than he has any right to be. His boy is just overall endearing. 

Harry looks up when he hears Louis’ footsteps, and he smiles widely at Louis. “Hey, babe, we’re almost done!”

“I see that. You need help with anything?” Louis offers, walking up to Lia who is sitting on the counter. He presses a kiss to her hair, which makes her giggle and say, “Silly papa.”

“I think we’re all good. Just have to pack this stuff up and grab the blanket, and then we’re good to go,” Harry says, placing the last item into the basket and covering the food with the picnic blanket before closing the lid.

Louis gets a proper look at Harry when he turns toward Louis. Louis is always shocked by how Harry can make even the most simple of t-shirt and jeans combinations look good. Louis legit has the fittest boyfriend on the planet. Sorry, he doesn’t make the rules. It is what it is. 

Once everything is packed, the three of them make their way to the car and then they're off to the park.

When they arrive, they pick a spot under a shady tree and lay out the checkered blanket. Lia brought a few toys, so once the blanket is in place she upheaves them right in the middle while her parents don smiles and shake their heads.

Louis helps Lia clear the toys a little so that there's room for Harry to at least put down the basket.

“Lia, you can play in a mo, okay? We all need to eat first,” Harry says, opening the basket and pulling out a few thermoses full of lemonade Louis had seen sitting in the fridge last night.

“Okay, Daddy, my tummy  _ is  _ pretty hungry,” Lia agrees, pushing her toys into one corner of the blanket so she can sit closer to the basket. Louis may have grown up with a gaggle of younger siblings, but the things Lia says have him biting back a laugh most of the time.

“What did you pack, Curls?” Louis inquires, because, knowing Harry, he’s probably made enough to feed way more than two grown men and a little girl. 

“I made turkey sandwiches with avocado and a few other things. Umm, there's a fruit salad, some veggies and dip, pasta salad, coleslaw, and a thing of biscuits,” Harry states proudly. Louis briefly wonders if Harry's picnic basket works similarly to Mary Poppins’ bag. 

“Sounds amazing, love,” Louis comments. They all dig into the various foods, Louis helping Lia get what she wants onto the plate with very few casualties. 

They eat and joke around, sipping the fresh lemonade Harry made. Lia, of course, finishes before them and runs off to play on the playground a few feet away, a close enough distance that both Louis and Harry don’t feel the need to accompany her, just keep a close eye. 

“Remember how we met?” Louis asks suddenly, shifting so he’s side by side with Harry, both sitting with their arms splayed behind them. Harry lets out a startled laugh, the one that sounds more like a bark. “Of course I remember! You almost killed me.” 

“Well, I didn’t, yeah? So that's good,” Louis teases, pressing a quick kiss to Harry’s cheek, causing a light blush to appear on Harry’s cheeks.

Louis thinks back to that day. Sure, he had almost run Harry down, but he considers it to be the best day of his life. He thinks this park is something really special for them. It  _ had  _ brought them together, afterall. He remembers how cute Harry had looked and how they had both stuttered out apologies. Louis compares that day to this one right now, sitting beside the boy that was once just a stranger and watching his little girl, who was once quite a mystery to him, play with the other children on the playground. Louis can’t help but think of everything they’ve done together, everything that’s changed, and everything that’s changed about him.

Everything that has happened has been nothing but good. Even when Lia is acting up or Harry and he have a little spat, he wouldn’t trade any part of his life for anything. 

With these thoughts in his head, Louis turns towards Harry. “Hazza?" he starts, "Do you think you’ll want more?” Louis thinks he probably shouldn’t feel so nervous, but planning for kids and even to get married are huge steps, but steps that he wants. He wants so badly to get married and to have more babies with Harry. 

Louis watches Harry carefully, a little nervous for his answer. Harry was a teen father, and Louis can’t even imagine what kind of perspective that could give a person.

Harry watches him right back, a smile creeping onto his face. “Yeah, Lou, I do,” he murmurs, Louis sending a silent thanks that Harry knew what he was talking about without having to elaborate.

They’re broken out of their smiley we-just-decided-to-have-kids-in-the-future bubble when Lia runs up to Louis and tackles him in a hug, both of them falling back on the blanket with a thud.

“Papa!” Lia yells, clearly pleased with her ambush, if her gigantic smile and giggles are anything to go by.

“Yes, my love?” Louis asks, cradling Lia to him, their faces close. He registers that Harry is watching them with a disgustingly fond look, and it makes Louis’ heart do a few somersaults. 

“Will you come play with me?” Lia asks, batting her eyelashes because she’s a little shit who’s good at guilt tripping. She has well and truly learned from the best. Louis could cry he's so proud. 

“Only if your dad plays, too,” Louis offers, and, as if they had it all planned out, both of them turn to Harry and give him the biggest puppy eyes either of them can muster. 

Harry pretends to think about it, making a lot of humming sounds and holding his fingers up to his chin.

“Daddy, please! Please, please, please?” Lia begs, quickly scrambling off of Louis to settle in Harry’s lap to make sure he has a perfect view of of her big eyes and pouty lips. They both really are suckers.

Harry's facade breaks, a huge smile taking over his face as he quickly grabs Lia close and says, “I’ll play, but only if we can take a picture first.”

Lia pulls back and gives him a calculating look that lasts for a few moments before she’s holding out her tiny hand and saying, “You got a deal, Daddy.”

“Alright, baby, let’s shake on it,” Harry says through a chuckle, and then they’re shaking hands and just generally being goofballs.

Louis grabs his phone and presses closer to Harry, situating them until Lia is partially sitting on both their laps. They press close together to take the selfie, smiles wide as Louis clicks the shutter.

“Okay, darling, what are we playing on first?” Louis asks as he pockets his phone, all of them standing.

“Tag! You’re it!” Lia shouts before smacking Louis’ arm and running away, leaving Louis with his mouth hanging open in shock before he quickly regains his composure and darts after Lia.

Soon, the three of them are playing a long game of tag, laughing and smiling and having the most amazing day.

Louis is absolutely sure this park is magical.

**

Later that day Louis uploads the selfie of the three of them to Instagram with the caption, _My little family <3_

He can’t wait for what the future holds for them.

_ fin _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay you finished!!
> 
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> 
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